The Child in the Forest
by mag31
Summary: Booth and Brennan investigate the murder of a child. A long, harsh case that will bring them closer. BB friendship & romance. Takes place during early season 3.
1. So early in the morning

A/N :

_**A/N : **__**Hey people!! I'm back!! Back, with a new story based on a case again, in which I planned to mix fluff, fun, angst, suspense, and of course, BB friendship, & romance. I hope you'll like is as much as Bloody Waters! At first, I wanted to call the story "Here we go round the mulberry bush", like the song I'll use in, at least, the first chapters. But it sounded weird so my beta (who's back with me of course!) and I decided to go with a more traditional title.**_

_**Of course, I don't own anything (if I could only own Booth, though… I'm not asking much, am I?), except Chloe and some other characters I invented.**_

_**Good reading !**_

* * *

**Chapter ****1 : So early in the morning**

"_Here we go 'round the mulberry bush  
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush…"  
_

Chloe sat straight in her bed and began to untangle her long blonde hair with her fingers. Like every morning, the sound of his heavy steps upstairs had woken her up. She shivered, thinking of him, and stopped humming. If he heard her, he could… No, she preferred not to think about that. Her fingers unconsciously brushed the most recent bruise on her left arm. No, this would not be happening again. She'd be a good girl, she'd do what he expected from her, and hopefully she'd be able to go out this day.

"_Here we go 'round the mulberry bush  
So early in the morning…"_

There were mulberry bushes in the forest, lining the path. She wondered if the fruits were already ripe. Not that she was starving; she always had enough to eat. He even forced her, when he found that she hadn't eaten enough. But the mulberry bush… It reminded her of her grandmother. She had taught her how to pick the ripest berries, when they were dark and not red. The red ones were useful to make jam, though. Her grandmother always let her lick the spoon and the pan.

She moved her thin fingers to her mouth and brushed them against her lips. The memory of the hot, sweet jelly caused her to smile, first. But soon, tears of melancholy began to fill her eyes. She'd never see her grandmother again.

The sound of the door being unlocked made her startle, and she sniffed, wiping away the few tears that had managed to slide down her cheeks. When the door was pushed open, the light coming from upstairs obliged her to narrow her eyes.

"Come on, Becky", the rough voice barked. "Today you're having breakfast with me. Upstairs."

* * *

Brennan put her cup of coffee back on the table and huffed. It was Saturday morning, it was sunny outside, and yet, she wasn't in the mood for anything. She was feeling sleepy and, to be honest, slightly depressed. The fact was, although she wouldn't have admitted to herself, she was feeling awfully lonely these days. Even though she kept repeating to herself and the others that she didn't mind being alone, she couldn't deny that her personal life was a total disaster. She sometimes wondered what it would be like if she had left with Sully. Maybe it would have been a good idea, after all.

No. Not really.

She sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. Booth had taken a week off. He had gone to Florida with Parker. Plenty of amusement parks, white sand beaches… Everything was present to make the few days he was allowed to spend with his son perfect. What's more, they hadn't had a case for so long… Not that she hoped that somebody would discover a dead body soon, but she missed Booth being around. She missed the field work, she missed interviewing suspects, she… Woah. No, wait… Had she just confessed that she missed Booth? No, huh, total nonsense there.

Okay. She really did miss him. She missed their heated debates in the Diner while eating fries and cherry pie; she missed their arguing in the car, she missed him showing up at her door with take-out Thai food. She missed his friendly ears when she felt the need to talk about her dad, she missed his point of view, although she would never hold back her counter-arguments, she missed his pieces of advice, even if she would never admit to putting them into practice.

Yeah, Booth was really a good friend, more than all the guy friends she had had in her life. Somehow, it was natural. Partners were meant to be friends. They spent so much time together, as part of their job. Well… It sometimes went beyond the working hours, but that's what partners do, don't they?

She stood up, annoyed by her own thoughts, and turned the music on before heading to the bathroom. A quick shower and she'd go visit her father at the Federal Detention Facility.

* * *

"No, Daddy, leave me alone, I wanna sleep again!"

"I'm sorry, buddy, but you gotta get up, our plane leaves in an hour and a half. I'm sorry I have to wake you up so early but I couldn't book another flight."

"No, I don't wanna go!" Parker whined instead of co-operating. "I wanna go to Seaworld again!"

"C'mon, Parker, look back at everything we did this week. You're a lucky little boy, you know. You'll have a lot of things to tell your friends when you're back at school."

"But I don't wanna go back school, and I don't wanna go back home."

Booth sat beside his son and smiled at him.

"I know; me neither. But, hey, we can't stay here forever. Your mom would miss you, don't you think?"

Parker seemed to think about it during a moment, then nodded. "I think I'd miss her too."

"Right. So why don't you get up now, and I'll buy you a donut when we are at the airport?"

"Yay!"

This time, the five-year-old didn't have to be asked twice. He jumped out of the bed, followed by the tender gaze of his father who, for some reason, was glad they were leaving muggy Florida and would be back to boring DC in a few hours.

* * *

The visiting room was cold and austere, as usual. But despite the environment and the ridiculous orange suit he was forced to wear, Max Keenan was all smiles. He wouldn't admit that life in prison wasn't always pleasant. But he had done this for his daughter, and there she was, standing in front of him. He couldn't ask for more. He had been waiting days to see her.

He stood up and opened his arms to her. She sighed but approached him and, wrapping her arms around him, she gave him the hug he was clearly expecting.

"How've you been, honey?" he asked cheerfully.

She shuddered, sitting down on the chair in front of him.

"I'm okay, as you can see."

He chuckled. Same old Tempe…

"By this, I meant, what have you been doing this week?"

"Routine, you know. The usual work."

"Booth is on vacation, isn't he?"

"Yep. He's in Florida with Parker. He's coming back today, I guess."

"Uhm…"

Max Keenan's eyes narrowed and his lips curved in a slight, mischievous smile.

"What?" Brennan asked, raising her eyebrows.

"You miss him, don't you?"

"What? Why do you say that?"

"Oh, c'mon hon. You could at least admit it. I can hear it in your voice."

"What are you trying to say, Dad? There's nothing to be heard in my voice. I can bear him being on vacation for one week."

"Meaning that you can't bear him being gone for a longer time?"

"What? No! Stop it, Dad, it's annoying! What's your point?"

"All right, all right, don't be so touchy. So, do you have plans for tonight?" Max said, thinking it was about time to change the subject.

"Angela wants us to go out together. Just girls, I mean. Hodgins wasn't really happy with that, but I'm pretty sure she'll find a way to convince him to let her go without him for the night."

"That's a good thing. You should…"

"… go out more often, yeah, I know. That's what Angela said, too."

"I think I'd love that Angela."

"It's difficult not to love Angela", she stated, getting to her feet. "Look, I gotta go now, my karate class starts in twenty minutes. Do you need anything?"

"No, thanks. Seeing my daughter was way enough to please me."

She hesitated, then decided to plant a kiss on his cheek. Max smiled. He was finally managing to win her over. Not a day did he regret to be in jail. Whatever his sentence would be, his daughter's visits were enough to make him happy. She was beginning to get used to him, to accept his love and somehow, to love him back. Each time she had come to see him, their conversations had become more intimate. She didn't call him Max anymore, she called him Dad. He knew she had almost forgiven him. And he also knew that Booth had his part in this.

"Honey?"

She turned around, her hair moving slightly. God, she looked so much like her mother.

"I'm pretty sure he misses you too."

Finding nothing to retort, she rolled her eyes before leaving, letting out an annoyed sigh. Of course, Booth didn't miss her. He had been waiting for so long to spend this week with Parker. For sure, he was thinking of anyone but her.

The sunlight outside made her blink. It was only ten in the morning and it was already pretty hot. As she was heading to her car, her cell phone rang in her purse. It had to be Angela. She wasn't really in the mood for going out tonight, but she knew that her friend wouldn't leave her in peace until she'd agreed. However, when she quickly glanced at the screen, she was surprised to see that the caller ID said 'Booth'.

"Hey Booth. Already back?"

"_Hey, Bones, look, I've got a favo__ur to ask you"_, he said, sounding agitated.

"What is it?" she asked, opening the door of the car and throwing her bag onto the passenger seat.

"_Well, taxi drivers__ are on strike today, can you believe that?"_

"I wasn't aware of that."

"_You should watch the news sometimes, Bones"_, he teased.

"You too, obviously", she retorted in the same tone.

"_Yeah, well, whatever… I really, really __want to avoid calling Rebecca, 'cause you know, she'd…"_

"Yeah, I understand. You're afraid that she'd decide to shorten your time with Parker."

"_Exactly. So__, I was wondering if you could…"_

"You want me to pick you guys up at the airport."

"_Exactly. But if it bothers you, I'll just…"_

She laughed. "Of course not. What time will you arrive?"

"_We've already arrived, actually."_

"Oh, okay, I'm on my way, then."

As she turned on the ignition, she realised that she was smiling.

* * *

Booth loaded the bags in the trunk, huffing with tiredness. Parker was already sitting in the back seat, seeming kind of excited about this change of plan.

"I owe you, Bones. I really do, you know."

"Well, it's no big deal, right? I just had to skip my karate class."

"Woah, I'm sorry for that."

"Oh, don't be. I didn't really want to go, anyway", she said in a tired voice, settling herself in the driver seat.

He fastened his seat belt and looked at her with concern.

"You okay?"

"Yeah", she reassured him with a slight smile.

"In Florida, we went to Disneyworld, and Seaworld, and to the water park", explained Parker in a rush. "And I met Mickey, and he gave me a kiss on the cheek!"

"Who's Mickey?" Brennan asked. "Is he one of your friends?"

Booth laughed at his partner's ignorance about Disney characters. "He's a mouse, Bones. Mickey Mouse."

"So, you guys met a mouse?"

"Well, not a r…" He stopped himself, remembering that Parker was in the car. "Yes. We met a mouse."

He winked to a puzzled Brennan who decided that she'd probably understand later.

When they reached their destination, she helped Booth carry the bags into the house, the little boy running and jumping around them.

"Are we going to the zoo tomorrow, Daddy?"

"Yes, Parker, we'll go to the zoo tomorrow."

"You promise?"

Booth crouched down and rested his forehead on his son's.

"I promise. Now why don't you go playing in your room?"

"Okay! Is Doctor Bones staying with us today?"

"No Parker, I gotta go back home now", Brennan replied, knowing how Booth cherished his rare moments alone with Parker.

"You could stay and I'd show you my new remote-controlled car!"

"Another time, maybe."

"Okay."

The five-year-old stepped closer to Brennan and looked up at her, tilting his head back to beg a kiss. The anthropologist was surprised, at first, but then she leaned down and she offered him her cheek. When it was her turn to give him a kiss, she couldn't help noting how soft and smooth his child skin was.

"Good bye, Doctor Bones!"

Brennan watched him prancing towards his room, an amused smile playing on her lips, while Booth's gaze was directed to his partner. Had she just been touched by his adorable son? He couldn't help thinking how cute it was to see her like this. One day, he'd manage to change her mind about having children. One day, he'd succeed.

"I think I should go now", Brennan announced, startling him out of his reverie.

"Oh… Don't you want a cup of coffee?" he asked, trying to postpone the moment she'd leave more than attempting to be polite.

"No, I'm fine, thanks", she replied, slightly shaking her head.

Booth followed her to the door and leaned against it.

"I'm dying to eat a cherry pie. In Florida, they are awful. We should go to the Diner, one of these days."

"Sure", she answered with a smile before leaving.

But to tell the truth, it wasn't really the delicious cherry pies that were missing in Florida. It were the classy forensic anthropologists.

* * *

"_This is the way we wash our clothes  
Wash our clothes, wash our clothes  
This is the way we wash our clothes  
So early Monday morning…"  
_

Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Tues... no, wait. Thursday. Let's do it again. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday.

Chloe knew the days of the week by heart. She had learnt them at school. At first, she had managed to remember which day it was, counting on her fingers. But now, she had been there for so long she had sort of lost all notion of time. She didn't even know how old she was now. She was five when she had arrived. Was she six now? She knew the months of the year, too. And today was pretty hot, although it was still early. It had to be July or August.

And Saturday. Yeah... The sun seemed like a Saturday morning sun.

* * *

The bright August morning sun shone over the trees of Browne State Forest. Her hands on her hips, Pamela Grant let out a deep sigh of contentment. The smell of wood and leafs, the smooth breeze. Perfect weekend. Perfect place to unwind. She tried not to think about the Monday to come. The inescapable and never-ending jams in the center, a stressful presentation at work. Jeez, she would have become crazy without these little weekend escapades.

"Pam, where's Sammy?" her boyfriend's voice asked, his head protruding from the tent.

"I don't know, I thought he was with you", she replied, glancing around. "Aw, that dog… Why does he always feel the urge to run after birds like a cat? Sammy!"

"Sammy!!"

"Sammy, heel! Heel!"

But Sammy was far from paying attention to his masters' calls, for he had found something that was definitely worth ignoring their orders. He gave himself away, though, when he wasn't able to hold back a yelp of satisfaction, and soon, he felt a firm hand grabbing his collar.

"Sammy, you're really…"

Pamela never found the right word to tell her dog how pissed she was when he ran away, for the second her eyes shifted to his marvelous discovery, she screamed, loosing every hope to relax during the weekend.

* * *

_**A/N :**__** I'm very curious to know what you thought of this first chapter, so click the button and let me know!**_


	2. Sweet lullaby

_**A/N : **__**Thank you guys for the kind reviews, even if I didn't reply individually, I love you all. I hope you'll like the chapter, I'm aware that the beginning of the story is very slow, but I like to range over the characters, their activities, state of mind, etc. And if not, the story would be over in 5 short chapters.**_

* * *

**Chapter ****2 : Sweet lullaby**

"_This is the way we iron our clothes  
Iron our clothes, iron our clothes…"  
_

Chloe curled up on her bed, her thumb in her mouth. It was evening, now, but it did not make much of a difference as the room, which had no windows, was always plunged in darkness.

"_This is the way we iron our clothes  
So early Tuesday morning…"  
_

Her mother used to sing her this song. It was not exactly a lullaby, more the kind of song you sing when you're walking to school or wandering on a path, but it was the only one she could remember.

"_This is the way..."_

Her eyelids were heavy now. She pulled the blanket around her, sucking her thumb harder. He'd scold her if he saw her, but he would never know about it. She just wished her mother was kneeling next to her. She imagined she was the one singing. She was afraid that one day she'd forget her face. She could almost feel her soft fingers stroking her hair. Almost...

* * *

Booth bent down and placed a tender kiss on his son's forehead.

"Good night, buddy", he whispered, stroking the silky blond hair.

"Good night Daddy!"

The little boy huddled up under the sheets, waiting for his father to close the door. But before it closed, he threw back the sheets and called.

"Parker, it's half past nine!" Booth said in a reproachful tone, stepping back into the bedroom.

"Mommy always sings me a song before I go to sleep", the clever kid said.

Booth sat on the edge of the bed, shaking his head. "So how come this is the first time you've asked me that?"

"I really, really need a song tonight, Daddy. Please", Parker implored, blinking at his father with his irresistible puppy eyes he knew he couldn't resist.

"All right. But you've got to promise me that after this, you're gonna sleep for real."

"Yeah I promise!" he replied in a rush.

"No water, no monster under the bed, no wolf in the closet", Booth insisted.

"I promise!"

"Okay then."

Booth sat on the bed, his hand on his son's cheek.

"_God's stars shine out in Heaven  
The birds make not a peep  
The night is dark and quiet  
It's time to go to sleep_

_Good night, my little darling  
Sweet dreams I send to you  
And while you sleep, God's angels  
Will keep watch over you…"_

And when he went quiet, he was satisfied to note that Parker's eyes were closed and that he was sleeping like a little angel.

* * *

The lights were dancing in the club, to the rhythm of the loud techno music. Brennan sat at the bar and ordered two Tequila Sunrises as Angela took a seat on a stool beside her.

"Are you having fun, sweetie?" Angela screamed, trying to overpower the loud music.

"What?" Brennan leaned closer to her friend to hear her better.

"I asked you if you were having fun!"

"Sure", the anthropologist lied with a forced nod before taking a sip of her drink.

"You don't seem to…" the artist noted, the sound of loud music hiding the disappointment in her voice. "Look around you, there are plenty of hot guys! You can have any one of them, just snap your fingers!"

Brennan shrugged.

"I don't know. I'm not in the mood."

"Oh, sweetie… I hate seeing you like this. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"No Ange, I mean, it's just that…"

"Can we buy you drinks?" an attractive dark-haired man asked politely, followed on his heel by a blond, elegant guy.

Angela opened her mouth to answer but her friend was quicker.

"No, thanks. As you can see, we already have drinks", she replied rudely, wiggling her half-empty glass to emphasise her words before turning her back to them.

Angela finished hers in one gulp. "Not anymore!" She announced cheerfully, gaining herself a deadly glare from Brennan.

The first man stepped between the two friends and directed his attention to Angela, daring placing his hand on the small of her back.

"She's almost married!" Brennan squealed. She got to her feet and grabbed her friend's hand firmly. "Come on Angela, let's go out of here."

Angela was about to protest but, after all, she had organised the night for her friend, not for herself. She was only disappointed to see that she hadn't reached her goal.

"I believed you thought that marriage was an archaic institution", she said as they walked out of the club to the cooler, quieter outside.

"I do."

"Are you punishing me because I accepted a drink from a guy in a club? You're not going to tell Jack, are you?" Angela asked, worried.

Brennan sighed. "No, Angela, I'm not gonna tell him anything. I just… That's all I could think of to get out of there."

"I'm sorry, sweetie… I wanted to help you take your mind off things. You seem so… preoccupied… these days…"

"I'm the one who should apologise, Ange. I didn't mean to ruin your night."

"You did not, Brenn." She glanced at her watch. "Okay… What do you say we take a taxi and spend the rest of the night at your place?"

When the anthropologist nodded, Angela smiled mischievously. "You'd better have a good bottle of wine at home, sweetie."

* * *

Booth turned off the TV and lay down on the couch, settling his head comfortably on the fluffy pillows. He could have walked to his bedroom, but he was so sleepy it felt like it was on the other side of the world. It was much easier to flop down here and close his eyes. Florida had been fun but it felt good to be home. It was still early but he realised that he was exhausted. The trip and his wonderful but disrupting son had ended up getting the better of him.

When he woke up, startled by the ringing of the phone, he first thought it was morning. But a quick glance at the DVD player's digital clock told him that he had only been sleeping for three short hours. He rubbed his eyes and got to his feet reluctantly, hoping that Parker was still sleeping. He hated receiving calls during the night. It was either bad news, or a new case. And when he picked up the phone and heard his boss' voice, he was a little relieved that it was not the former.

Although the idea of being obliged to leave a whining Parker to a barking Rebecca early on a Sunday morning when he had promised his son to bring him to the zoo did not exactly thrill him.

"… and he was like… and he…"

Aware of the fact that she was too drunk to explain herself with words, Angela launched herself into an amusing gesture, intending to pantomime the way that Jack had reacted the last time they had gone out together and a man hit on his fiancée.

They both burst into laughter, and soon they realised their bellies were hurting from their giggling.

When Brennan's cell phone rang, Angela was faster and grabbed it, curious to know who could possibly be calling her friend at 2 am.

"Booth!" She raised and lowered her eyebrows suggestively.

"Gimme the damn phone, Ange!"

Brennan wrested her phone out of Angela's hands before she could answer in her place.

"Hey Booth" she said, throwing a deadly glare to her friend, who was continuing to make suggestive gestures.

"_I'm sorry to call you so late… or early… I hope I didn't wake you up…"_

"No, actually I was…"

The end of her phrase was drowned out by Angela's chuckling. "Hey Booth! Wanna come party with us?"

"Angela!" Brennan scolded her, covering the mouth piece of her phone with her hand.

"_Was that Angela?"_ Booth asked with an amused voice.

Brennan turned her gaze to her friend and couldn't help laughter to take over her, too.

"_Bones?"_ Booth asked, confused.

"Sorry. Yes, it's Angela."

"_Wait… Are you two drunk?"_

"Well… I wouldn't say drunk, we're just… We're…"

"We're smashed!" Angela squealed, sounding pretty proud of herself, before bursting out in laughter again.

"Angela!"

"_Okay, I get it._ He cleared his throat, half-amused, half-bothered. _"Look, Bones, I'm sorry to interrupt your girls' slumber party, but we have a case."_

"Oh… Okay… So, what can you t… Angela, stop it! I'm really sorry, she's insufferable when she's had one too many. What do you know about the case?"

"_A body was found in Browne State Forest, in Virg__inia. It's about 3 hours by car",_ Booth explained. _"I was about to ask you to meet me at my place tomorrow morning but I guess I'd better pick you up"_, he added in a mocking tone.

"Oh no, that's okay, I'll come to you."

"_No, I'll pick you up"_, he insisted.

"I can drive!"

Booth chuckled. _"No Bones, obviously you can't."_

"I'm _not_ drunk. _Angela_ is."

"_No,__ I know, you're not drunk, you're smashed. I did catch th… "_

"I'm not smashed, I'm…"

"_Pissed?"_ Booth tried, teasing her.

"Oh, shut up, Booth!" she said, half-laughing. "So, what time do we have to leave?"

"The sooner, the better, I'm afraid. I was planning to drop Parker off at his mother's place around seven, I think it would be better if I could pick you up before."

"Okay then, I'll be ready. See you tomorrow."

Brennan hung up, sighing, with a look of apology for her friend.

"I'm afraid the party's over…"

* * *

Booth walked into Parker's room, the phone still in his hand.

He slightly pushed the door so it was ajar, just enough to take a look at his son sleeping. He would have to wake him up early in the morning. The little boy would whine, remind him of his promise. Rebecca would huff at him, complaining that it's always the same with him. Angry, she'd even probably reproach him that his job seems to be more important to him than his own son. A statement that, besides being very far from the truth, couldn't cause him more pain.

His fingers squeezed the phone harder. He had lied. By omission. He knew more about the case than he had told Bones. The size of the body found by the hikers in the forest suggested it was a child. He didn't really know why he hadn't mentioned it. Perhaps he just didn't like the idea of all this.

He closed the door and headed for his own room. He needed the couple of hours of sleep that were left till morning. This was going to be a long, tough case.

In her dreams, there was no fear. She often dreamed of her family. Of school, and the games she played with her friends in the playground. Of her holidays; of her cat, Mina. Of her last birthday and the candles, and how good the chocolate cake had been. Of the last Christmas and how excited she had been about her presents. A pretty doll, awesome pink roller-skates, and a beautiful dress her mother had chosen for her.

In her dreams, there was only fun and happiness. Too much, maybe. Because every morning, when she woke up in what was now her bedroom, she inevitably burst into sobs, realising that the dream was just a dream, and the nightmare was reality.

* * *

_**A/N : **__**I hope you enjoyed the reading, see you soon for chapter 3!**_


	3. Sunday prayers

_**A/N : Okay, I had fun this week end, but tomorrow I'll have to work hard because I haven't written anything for chapter 4 yet and I'm struggling with the plot! Lol**_

_**A big thank to the reviewers, I'm sorry I don't reply very often but be sure I'm always happy with your comments.**_

_**Spoilers : about 304. I just couldn't help doing that. That's why, although it's already chapter 3, I'm telling you now the story happens shortly after this episode. 2-3 weeks after. If you haven't seen the episode yet, it's not a HUGE spoiler, just something about a conversation I mention.**_

_**Enjoy reading, anyway :)**_

* * *

**Chapter ****3 : Sunday prayers**

"_This is the way we go to church  
Go to church, go to church…"_

She was used to going to church with her father, every Sunday. Her mother sometimes accompanied them, but most of time it remained her special moment with her dad. In the car, he would tell her stories about Moses and Jesus and the apostles. Actually, it was far more captivating when it was him telling her. Ms Bowring was… well, as her name suggested it, she was really, really boring. And she had hairs on her chin.

Chloe let out a giggle at the memory of herself and her friends imitating the old woman squealing, "Be quiet, children!"

But her laughter soon died, as the thought occurred that she'd rather be with Ms Bowring, her boring stories, her stale cookies and her hairs on the chin than in this cold, dark room.

* * *

"But Daddy, you promised me that today we'd go to the zoo!" Parker whined, struggling, thus making it difficult for his father to help him put his tee-shirt on.

"Parker, I've just told you that I'm sorry. I know you're disappointed, buddy, but it's not as if I had a choice… I'm _obliged_ to leave."

Parker stamped his foot and crossed his arms in front of his chest stubbornly. "I don't care. I wanna go to the zoo. With you."

Booth kneeled before his son and tenderly put his hands on his shoulders.

"Look, Parker. It's about parents who lost their child. Daddy's gonna help them find him, you understand?"

At last, the little boy stopped whining to listen to his father, deciding whether he was going to keep on sulking or not.

"If you were lost, wouldn't you like other people to help you find Mom and Dad?"

Parker gazed at the ceiling, considering the idea of being lost, far from his parents, and what he'd do.

"I guess so…" he said, his eyes meeting his father's.

"We can go to the zoo the next weekend we'll be together, can't we? But this little boy, he'll never go to the zoo with his parents again if we don't find him, you understand?"

When the five-year-old nodded, Booth smiled proudly and kissed him gently on the forehead, relieved that his son had forgotten about his disappointment, though feeling bad about having been obliged to lie to him. For, whatever he'd do, the parents who had lost their child would never go to the zoo with him again.

* * *

Unfortunately, when Brennan climbed into the car and turned to say "hello" to him, Parker decided that it was the right moment to remind his father of how disappointed he was, plus gaining himself comforting words from the beautiful woman sitting in front of him.

"My Daddy and I should have been to the zoo today", he said, pouting.

"Aw, I'm sorry, Parker. But I'm sure you'll go there another time."

"Parker, remember what we talked about earlier?" Booth reminded his son.

"Yeah but I wanted to see the baby tigers!"

"The baby tigers will still be there when we come back", Booth stated, annoyed.

"Actually, a baby tiger grows very fast", Brennan explained, not seeming to get that the child was likely to be impossible after this little zoology lesson. "You guys had better go there fast or they'll…"

"Thank you very much, Bones!" Booth said angrily.

She shrugged, not really understanding why he was so pissed, if he was. "You're welcome. I didn't know you were that interested in baby tigers."

"I'm not, Bones! Okay? I'm not. I mean, you…" he huffed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his short hair. "Never mind."

He focused his eyes on the road, tapping the wheel nervously. Brennan arched her eyebrows, finally getting that, somehow, she'd better keep quiet.

But this silence was soon broken by a curious Parker.

"Are you going to look for the little boy with my daddy, Dr Bones?"

Brennan frowned, and turned her eyes to Booth. "I didn't know it was a little boy."

But when she met his deadly glare, she had the intuition that she'd better try to keep her mouth shut while Parker was in the car, even if she didn't really understood why.

"My daddy told me that he was going to help a mom and a dad find their little boy so that they will be able to go to the zoo with him, too."

Brennan's eyes grew wide and she bit her lip to prevent herself from talking and revealing out loud that the little boy was likely to be dead. Even though she sort of disagreed with lying to a child to protect him from the truth, Booth's glare reminded her that it was none of her business. Obviously, squeezing between him and his son would be a very bad idea.

"I'm very proud of my dad!" Parker said cheerfully.

Brennan turned her head and squirmed in her seat to look at Parker.

"Yes, you can be proud of him, Parker", she said with a smile. Booth wouldn't scold her for this, would he?

"He helps arresting naughty people, doesn't he?"

She nodded. "Yes, he does."

"When I'm older I wanna arrest naughty people just like him!"

Booth chuckled. "Wow there, buddy. You have plenty of time to think about it."

"I don't need plenty of time, that's what I wanna do! Mommy says it's dangerous, but I don't care. I'm not afraid. I'll have a gun just like you, and if the naughty people try to kill me I'll kill them first. And if they shoot me I'll have a body armour."

With his hands, the little boy pantomimed an imaginary weapon which he pointed at Brennan, pretending she was an enemy and was threatening him.

"Pan! Pan! You're dead!"

"Aw! That's not very nice of you Parker", Brennan complained.

The five-year-old burst out laughing.

"Hey Parker, remember what I said?" Booth weighted in firmly. "A gun is _not_ a game, neither is killing people."

A sheepish look stretched across Parker's cute face. "That's what Mommy says, too."

"And she's right."

"Ben, he's a countant."

"Accountant, Parker" his father corrected. "You know what it means?"

"Yes, it means that he's doing maths all day. Booooring!"

Brennan smiled. This child was quite a character.

"I don't know why Mommy prefers Ben's job. Daddy's job is better. Ben's job sucks", Parker added, insisting on the last word.

A look of pride appeared on Booth's face and, satisfied that his son found his job more interesting than Rebecca's new boyfriend's, he forgot to remind him that 'sucks' wasn't the most polite expression ever.

* * *

Brennan watched Booth as he lead Parker to the door of his ex's house, a bag in each hand. When he quickly turned around and gave her a smile, she wondered whether it meant "Don't worry, I'll be right back" or "Wish me good luck". Maybe both.

She smiled back, sincerely. And when he had already turned his back to her, she didn't even realise how long she kept smiling. As tired as she was from her partying and drinking last night, she didn't regret not to have been able to stay home. The truth was, during the past weeks, not a single moment had she complained when she was obliged to leave something unfinished and go into the field. Her new novel, her martial arts trainings, her evenings out, even her lab work didn't give her as much satisfaction as before.

What she hadn't really found out yet, was if she was now fond of the field work itself, which was likely and reassuring; or if she only was eager to spend more time with her partner, a more disturbing possibility.

Actually, she had been tormenting herself for days, thinking back about one of their last sessions with Doctor Sweets, when they had come to the conclusion that, the cases and their partnership aside, their relationship came down to a mere 'having coffee together'. And this bothered her. A lot. She remembered the moment when their eyes had met. Even if she was everything but a mind reader, she had noticed how hurt he had been, too. Damn it, they were partners, and they were professionals, right, but weren't they friends, too? When they knew they could count on each other, was it only out of professional need?

She liked thinking no.

When Booth came back and she saw the look stretched across his face, she understood that being a friend now meant shutting her mouth; and avoiding falling asleep, just in case he'd need to talk.

* * *

"She told me that this was the last time", Booth said, breaking the silence that had reigned during the last fifteen minutes. "She told me that if my work was more important than my child, I could forget about Parker."

Brennan eyed him worryingly.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I don't know what to say. Maybe next time we could drive him to Angela… She loves children and I'm sure she'd be glad to take care of him."

Booth chuckled. "She was smashed, yesterday. Remember?"

"Yes, right" she admitted, shrugging. "Well, Hodgins loves children too."

"Thank you, Bones, but that's not the problem. You know, Rebecca, she's… Well, if I'm not the one who drives Parker back to her on Sunday night, she's gonna freak out all the same."

"I'm sorry. As a father, you don't deserve this."

Booth was stunned by the compliment, but maybe because she realised she had just said something nice, Brennan decided to precise her mind.

"I mean, you're an attentive, loving father, who does a lot with his son, besides giving him the best education he knows. I think that is the definition of a good father."

She paused, as if considering what she had just said.

"I wish I had had a father like you", she added, her voice betraying regrets.

If he hadn't been driving, he would have kissed her on both cheeks and held her tight in his arms. Although, to be honest, kissing her passionately on the lips would be closer to what he wished he could do.

But all he was able to give her at this moment was his most grateful look.

"Thank you, Bones. You know, that… That means a lot to me."

"You're welcome, Booth."

"You know what?"

"What?"

"I had a lot of fun in Florida…"

"I don't doubt that a second."

"… but I missed my partner", he finished, throwing her his best charm smile.

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't", she said with an unconvinced look.

"Na, it's true. I did miss you. I'd be happy that we finally have a case to work on together if it wasn't about a… you know… a dead child."

"Yeah by the way, why didn't you tell me that it was about a child when you called me?"

She hadn't told him that she had felt the same, but somehow, he knew she did. Or hoped it.

"I don't know, I was tired I guess. I tried to get to the point."

He hadn't voiced how upset he had been because of the details he had been given about the body. He didn't have to, for she knew how much he hated every single case involving children.

"I understand", she said simply.

Again, his gaze quickly left the road to look at her.

"You should sleep while you can. This is gonna be a long day."

She gave him a grateful smile, sank a little more in her seat, and closed her eyes. After a deep inspiration, followed by a long expiration, every muscle totally relaxed, she fell asleep almost immediately.

Booth revelled in the silence and the soothing feeling of his sleeping partner beside him. He had planned to go to the church with Parker this morning. That's why he made the most of this moment to pray. He prayed for the innocent child to whose inconsolable parents they would have to announce their loss; prayed for his own child to be safe.

He glanced at his partner. She seemed so peaceful with her head tilted aside, and her mouth slightly opened. He prayed for her, too. For her to understand how much her father loved her. And he prayed for them. For their partnership, their friendship. A friendship that he'd never believe could be summed up to a coffee.

* * *

"_This is the way we go to church  
So early Sunday morning…"_

Chloe kneeled on the ground, beside her bed. In spite of the heat she knew reigned outside, the floor was cold and hard against her bare legs. She folded her hands, lowered her head and began praying.

She prayed for her mother to be fine, for her father to be happy, for her grandmother to be healthy. She prayed to be able to see them again. She prayed for someone to come and let her out of here. She prayed for him to leave her alone, for him not to touch her anymore. But, knowing that God didn't like naughty thoughts, she didn't pray for him to die.

* * *

_**A/N : **__**As I told my lovely Catherine, when I am looking for a name, I go to my movies website, I click on 'casting' and I take a name at random. And I chose 'Bowring' at random as usual, and then I began writing : 'Ms Bowring was…' Well, boring!! LMAO Yeah I know I'm hopeless. I hope you liked the chapter, anyway!**_


	4. Around the mulberry bush

_**A/N : Hey people! Thanks for the kind reviews you sent me. As you can see, I'm a Foreigner fan since Hot Blooded was used in the show. I was working on this**__** chapter while listening to my Best Of Foreigner and there was this song, which gave me this idea. I hope you won't think it's too cheesy, especially the end. Please be honest, and if you didn't like that very much, don't be afraid to tell me so. Good reading anyway!**_

* * *

**Chapter 4 : Around the mulberry bush**

Booth turned on the CD player. Even though her head was turned towards him, he didn't need to look at his partner to know that she was still sleeping peacefully. He knew her well enough to know that music wouldn't wake her up if he didn't put on it too loud; besides, it would prevent him from falling asleep as well, for the long road he was driving on couldn't have been more straight and boring.

The first notes of the song told him that the CD playing was The Best of Foreigner.

"_So long, I've been looking too hard, I've been waiting too long…"_

Looking too hard, not really. Hey, you _can't_ look for love. Ready or not, love comes to you when you're expecting it the least. And sometimes, the love is associated with an unexpected person.

Waiting too long, definitely. He couldn't keep his eyes from leaving the road and turning to his sleeping partner. And he couldn't prevent a slight sigh escaping from his mouth.

_"Sometimes I don't know what I will find, I only know it's a matter of time…"_

As a response, Brennan sighed in her sleep and her head rolled to the other side. He bit his lower lip, his gaze alternating between the road and her. If he had dared to, and if he had been able to, he would have stretched his arm and brushed her cheek.

"_When you love someone, when you love someone  
It feels so right, so warm and true, I need to know if you feel it too…"_

Her lips seemed so smooth, half-parted as though an incitation. Jeez. Why did it feel so right? It was NOT right.

"_Maybe I'm wrong, won't you tell me if I'm coming on too strong…"_

He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, pushing the air out of his lungs, for he really had to calm himself down or the car would soon go off the road. Of course he was wrong. It was wrong that his heart beat so painfully in his chest when he saw her, wrong to feel this uncontrollable warmth burning his body every time they touched, wrong to concentrate on her rather than his work.

_"This heart of mine has been hurt before, this time I wanna be sure…" _

I felt so wrong to talk about professionalism when all he wanted was to kiss her, so wrong to act as if nothing had changed when all he needed was to hold her tight.

"_I've been waiting for a girl like you to come into my life  
I've been waiting for a girl like you…" _

"How long before we arrive?"

Her sleepy voice startled him back to reality. Except for her eyelids she hadn't moved, and her clear eyes were looking at him innocently now.

He turned the radio off nervously, wondering if she had caught him looking at her.

"Not long. Fifteen minutes, maybe."

She stretched her arms in front of her, then he felt that she had turned back her gaze to him.

"You can leave the music on. I like that song."

"_Here we go 'round the mulberry bush  
The mulberry bush, the mulberry bush…"  
_

* * *

Chloe kneeled in the grass. She knew that he was here; that he was watching her, guarding her. But she didn't care. She just had to pretend that she was alone. She stretched her arm and examined the mulberry bush. The berries were pale and small. Of course; it was only July.

She lay on the ground and stared at the crowns of the trees. Their cool shadow protected her from the heat of the burning July sun. She closed her eyes and managed to concentrate on the smells which tickled her nostrils. The smell of the grass, of the soil, of the trees; the smell of the summer breeze, the smell of the flowers. Then, she turned her attention to the sounds around her. The chirping of the birds, the buzzing of the insects; the sound of the trembling leaves.

Her eyes still closed, she grabbed a handful of grass and soil, as if to connect herself to the earth, tie herself to this place. And she wished she'd stay here forever.

* * *

"The sacrum is small, still developing. It's a little girl, about six to eight years old. Caucasian."

Kneeling on the ground, with latex gloves on her hands, Brennan was doing her best to remove the soil and dry leaves that concealed the small body, trying not to scratch herself on the brambles of the mulberry bush that had expanded itself over the remains of the poor child buried here.

The sheriff, a kind man with a beard, approached her, curious.

"Do you know the cause of death?"

Brennan got to her feet, shaking her head in reply.

"I can't be sure of that yet, I need the body sent back to DC and examined at the Jeffersonian."

She pulled off her gloves and turned to Booth.

"Maybe I should come back to DC and help Zack with the body. It's not that far, I'll rent a car."

"No!" He cleared his throat, for he had said this louder than he intended to. "I mean, Zack is a big boy now, he can do that part of the job alone. He doesn't need you anymore, or he wouldn't have his degree, right?"

Brennan stared at him thoughtfully before nodding.

"Yep. That's right", she said simply.

Booth eyed her suspiciously. He was obviously waiting for a counter-argument to come. But she found none; or hadn't intended to find any. Wow… He hadn't got used to her agreeing with him yet. It had happened a few times during the last past weeks, and it was still leaving him speechless. But, hey, he wouldn't be caught complaining about that.

"Besides, I'd rather have you helping me with the interrogations."

"Yes, there will be a lot to do", she agreed with a smile.

Booth couldn't help his lips curving in a smile. She was so damned sexy when she agreed with him. But his smile faded and turned into an annoyed expression when the sheriff stepped between them, ruining the moment.

"Agent Booth, Doctor Brennan, what do you need from me and my staff now?"

"As Doctor Brennan said, the body's gonna be brought back to the Jeffersonian Institution in DC. We'll be needing a little of your time today: we have a few questions to ask you before the body is identified."

"Not a problem. I'm at your disposal."

"Thank you sheriff, I appreciate that", Booth said, frowning slightly for Brennan had grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and was pulling it to get his attention.

"Booth… I need to talk to you in private."

"Uh… Sure."

He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her away.

"What is it?"

"About the body, I said that I couldn't ensure anything but I did note some important elements, although they have to be confirmed by further exams at the lab. There are no marks of injuries. She hasn't been stabbed, or strangled, or blown up. Not even tied. I think she may have been choked."

"I don't understand… Why didn't you want to say that in front of everybody?"

"Because that's not all. I'm almost sure this girl has been sexually abused."

"Oh, God… How do you know?"

"Well, by looking at…"

He waved his hands dismissively, immediately regretting to have asked the question.

"Okay, okay", he interrupted her. "Actually, I don't really wanna know about it."

"I thought it better to say nothing until we're sure. But I think we should begin to direct our investigation to child abduction, and..."

"… and list the sexual offenders in the region", Booth finished her sentence, before huffing under the sympathetic gaze of his partner. He began to dread what they would discover. He could already feel it. This was going to be a long, tough case.

* * *

"Chloe, honey, we gotta go now."

Chloe opened her eyes, a smile playing on her lips. The sun playing with her short locks of blonde hair, she was there, standing next to her with her hands on her hips. Her mother. She offered her hand to her little girl and, laughing, Chloe stretched her arm to take it. But they never touched. Instead, it were his strong and firm hands again, grabbing her under the armpits to force her to get to her feet.

"C'mon now, Becky, I gotta go to the city to buy some stuff, so you're gonna be a good girl and stay quietly in your room."

Surprisingly, she didn't care. She didn't bother crying. She didn't even whine. She wouldn't resist now, didn't react anymore. She had come to wonder if she could even feel anything. He could do what he wanted to her. Call her Becky, lock her in a cold, dark cellar. For he could never steal her memories, he could never suppress her dreams. He could grab her hand, but he could never stop her from imagining that her mother was holding it tenderly. He could scold her when she sang, but he could never stop this song from humming in her head.

"_Here we go 'round the mulberry bush  
So early in the morning…"_

* * *

Dawn was slowly settling in the small town of Tappahannock, Virginia. Booth pushed back his empty plate and stretched his arms and legs with a groan of exhaustion. The whining Parker, barking Rebecca, the trip and the long day of walking and investigation had ended getting the better of him.

"Tired?" Brennan asked, surprised. "It's only a quarter to ten."

"Hey, who drove?" he pointed out.

"You never let me drive anyway", she retorted with a shrug.

"That's right, because I don't want y…" A yawn stopped him from finishing his sentence. "Oh, never mind. I'm too tired to argue, tonight."

When he sat up, Brennan imitated him and they headed quietly to the elevator. The corridor leading to their adjacent rooms was empty and silent.

"Wanna come watch TV with me?" he offered.

She let out a slight laugh. "You're gonna fall asleep, Booth. You'd better turn off both the TV and the lights."

"Yeah… You're right, I… I'd better do that. Look, Bones, I…" he ran his hand through his short hair, seeming pretty embarrassed. "There's something that is, you know… bothering me."

She eyed him inquisitively.

"What is it?"

"Uh… Remember our last session with Sweets?"

"Sure. What about it?" she asked, sliding her card through the small electronic case to open the door.

Booth followed her inside and leaned his shoulder and head against the wall of the hall.

"What would have happened if they had split us up?"

Brennan stopped and turned to him, frowning.

"What are you talking about? Is there something you didn't tell me?"

"No! No, I mean, if this was our last case… what would become of us?"

"If we didn't work together anymore?"

When he nodded, she let herself drop onto the bed, puzzled.

"I guess we…" she began, struggling to find words. "I guess we'd see each other occasionally… I don't know, Booth. I'd like to say that I'm never gonna have to identify a murdered person again in my life, unfortunately this is far from the truth. And obviously, they are not gonna split us up, so why are you asking this?"

"Because I'm thinking, that's all… Because if we'd stop working together, a lot of things would change, and I…"

She stared at him, a perplex and worried look stretched across her face.

"You don't want us to stop working together, do you?"

"No, Bones, I just wanted to say that if we were obliged to, I don't want our friendship to go away with our partnership. After all we've been through together, I simply can't accept that our relationship can be summed up to a coffee."

She gave him a sincere and relieved smile.

"Oh… Well… Neither can I."

As he smiled back in relief, she sat up and moved closer to him.

"Look Booth, I know how difficult things are with Parker and Rebecca. And I know how difficult the cases about children are for you. I'm sorry if you're upset about this case… I just wanted to say that I'm here, you know, just the way that you are there for me when I have problems with my father."

"Thank you Bones."

He opened his arms to her. To be honest, he had firstly meant to close the space between their bodies and envelop her in his arms. After all, he remembered her approving when he had proposed that the day he'd get scared and hug her, they'd be even. Not that he was scared at the moment. But it would work all the same, wouldn't it?

No. Not really. And it was so not appropriate.

"Come here" he invited her anyway.

And with the most beautiful smile from her he had ever seen, she came to wrap her arms around him, as he pulled her close to his body. She hugged him a little tighter than she knew she should; and he didn't hold her as tight as he would have wanted to.

But when they pulled apart, there was no awkwardness between them; there never was. There was only gratefulness and friendship in their eyes. In any case, there was the deep emotional connection which they kept repeating to themselves was a strong partnership, although both of their hearts had beaten way too strong against the other's chest to fit that description.

"Good night, Bones", he whispered, a little too tenderly.

"Good night, Booth", she answered with a smile which she didn't realise was so warm.

When he had regained his room, he noted that the song which he had heard earlier was playing in his mind, and he couldn't help humming to it.

"_I've been waiting for a girl like you…"_

* * *

_**A/N : Okay, so what did you think? Was it too much? To be honest, I truly believe that Booth is visibly in love with his partner now… That's why I can't help writing this kind of things… I hope you won't tell me it was OOC, it's my worse nightmare, but please tell me honestly what you think! I love you all, thanks for reading!**_


	5. Little lost girl

_**A/N**__** : I am aware of the fact that I decided the story would take place after episode 4, and before that I mentioned it was in July. So, I can't change this, although I know it's not logical… I'm sorry, I hope you won't be mad at me :( I'm trying to plan everything so that this kind of things don't happen but I failed this time…**_

_**Thanks so much to all the reviewers, one of them told me I described Chloe a little too mature in chapter 4, I agree, and I did my best to fix it in this chapter. Good reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter 5 : Little lost girl**

"_This__ is the way we mend our clothes  
Mend our clothes, mend our clothes  
This is the way we mend our clothes  
So early Wednesday morning…"_

She remembered this day. It was a sunny Wednesday afternoon. She remembered it well because her friend Franny had just invited her to her birthday party, which would take place on the next Saturday.

Her parents had strictly forbidden her to talk to strangers. They had had this conversation with her a lot of times, and insisted firmly on the fact that she should never – 'You understand me?', her father had said, pointing his finger at her - never, accept anything from somebody she didn't know, especially an adult, especially a man. That's why Chloe never accepted candy when she was proposed some, and would never follow anyone to an awesome new amusement park.

But this day, as she was exiting the school, her mother had been out of sight. And this man, he had no candy, no ice cream, no free tickets for the merry-go-round. He only had kind blue eyes and a funny beard, and in his hands, a teddy bear which she was absolutely certain was hers, for his nose was scratched the same way as her Tommy's. He had said that her father had had an accident and was at the hospital, and it was the reason why her mother wasn't there to pick her up; that she didn't have to worry, though, for her father would heal soon; that he would drive her to the hospital and she'd be able to kiss his cheek which would help him heal faster, for the little girl's kisses had magical powers; that he was an old friend of her parents' but she couldn't remember him as the last time he had seen her, she was just a baby.

So, telling her how quickly she had grown and how cute she was, he had led her to his car, and they had travelled a long time before she understood that they weren't actually going to the hospital. The kind blue eyes had turned into hard grey ones, and his beard was no longer funny.

* * *

Angela stared thoughtfully at the sketch she was holding in her hands - long blonde hair, wide clear eyes. She had chosen to give her an innocent look and a pretty smile. She simply couldn't think of drawing a child in another way. A lead weight in her stomach, she let out a deep sigh. This was the part of her job she hated the most.

She placed the sheet of paper under the scanner. After a few seconds, the picture was displayed on the screen. Poor little thing.

She ran the facial recognition programme and launched a search among missing children, selecting the adjacent states, first. She waited, her heart in her mouth, the photos flashing before her eyes. From one minute to the next, the scrolling would stop on one of them. It was like a dreadful lottery. Within a couple of hours, the parents of one of these children would know the truth. And within a couple of days, these parents would be able to bury their little girl properly. At last, they would be able to grieve for her.

She held her breath, her eyes glued to the screen.

_Aaaaaand…_

The picture froze; it was a match.

_We've got a winner!__ Her name is Sarah, she's five and a half, she's got long blond hair and pretty blue eyes, and she lives in Staunton, Virginia._

Lived. Disappeared in August 2005. Died around fall 2006. Now lying as a skeleton on an examination table of the Jeffersonian Institution.

Angela felt tears burning in her eyes, and she had a hard time suppressing a sob. She wasn't usually that emotional, but this day… This picture… Those eyes, that smile… it was too much for her to bear.

She startled slightly when the hands of her boyfriend snaked around her waist.

"You wanna go to the medieval storage room?" Hodgins whispered in her ear before placing a tender kiss on her neck.

When she didn't even answer or move, he raised his gaze to the screen.

"Oh, seems like we've got a winner!"

Angela turned her head to look at him in the eyes, a bothered look stretched across her pleasant features.

"Don't say that as if you're happy with it, Jack. She's a little girl, she's been missing, and I don't even wanna know what ignominies were done to her before she died."

He could see the tears in her eyes, he could hear them in her voice.

"I… I'm sorry, Angela, you know I didn't mean to say it like that."

"Yeah… I know… I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me. It's just… Sometimes, it's hard to cope with this kind of cases."

"I know, Angie", he said, caressing her cheek.

She rested her head on his belly, relished in the warmth and comfort of him, and soon, found herself smiling. It was always like this with Jack. He gave her strength, brought her joy, chased away her doubts. And for this, she was thankful.

* * *

Booth was upset. Not that thinking about what had happened to their little victim and studying every sex offender living in the region was easy for her, but she knew how affected he always was when it came to children. What's more, their investigation was making no progress since they still hadn't received a call from the lab team giving them an ID. They had talked with dozens of people, but as usual, nobody had seen anything, nobody knew anything, and nobody could think of anyone capable of do such a horrible thing to an innocent six-year-old girl.

Yes, Booth was upset. She could see this so clearly. He gave her smiles, but his eyes were filled with tiredness. He teased as usual, but had called Parker two times since the day before. He never called him so often. He felt distressed, and there was nothing she could do about it. Partners comforted each other when one of them needed it, she had caught up on that. But she could definitely not hug him every five minutes… What would it look like?

She bit her lower lip, then smiled at how well she knew him now. Had she ever known anyone this well? Had she ever been able to finish somebody else's sentences like she did with his? Had anyone confessed to her as deeply as he'd done? She knew about a part of his life that he hid for most people. And, likewise, he knew her better than anyone. She could see his old wounds, he knew about her scars; she understood what he was going through, he could read her mind.

"Why are you smiling, Bones?"

His voice wasn't rude or accusing; it was gentle and curious. Yet, it startled her; because of what she had been thinking, perhaps.

She shrugged as to dismiss her thoughts.

"I don't know."

He looked slightly disappointed

"Aw, c'mon, Bones. What were you thinking of?"

"Noth-"

Her cell phone rang, saving her from having to justify herself.

"Sorry, it's Cam, they may have an ID."

He stared at her with interest; not that he was eager to get the new leads of the case – a few minutes ago, he would have been glad to hear them, but now it wasn't important anymore. He would have given everything he had to know what she had been thinking about. Her look had been so dreamy, so cute– sort of tender.

When she hung up the phone, his gaze was still fixed upon her thoughtfully.

"We've got an ID. Sarah Scott, age five, disappeared in August 2005. Her parents still live in the same place, near Staunton. We should go talk to them now."

It was his turn to let out a slight laugh. He loved it when she copied his reactions, anticipated his decisions, repeated his words. It was so cute.

"What are you laughing about?" she asked, frowning slightly.

A kind smile playing on his lips, he stared at her during a moment before answering. Poor Bones. She had to think she had said something wrong.

"Nothing."

"I'm gonna book the hotel then. I'd rather have a room with working air conditioning."

With a mischievous smirk, he watched her as she stood up. _Gotcha, Bones._

"What?"

He bit his lower lip, shaking his head innocently.

"Nothing."

She eyed him suspiciously, narrowing her eyes as if it could help her see through him. It didn't scare him, for _he_ was the mind-reader. And he felt satisfied with himself, for tonight _he_ was the one who was going to sleep in the most comfortable hotel room ever, paid by the Jeffersonian.

* * *

During the first night, she hadn't slept, but had been crying uninterruptedly.

First of all, because despite her preparedness to follow her parents' rules, she was perfectly aware that she had done something wrong, and that they would scold her. Then, because she didn't understand what was happening, and what was going to happen next. Sucking her thumb wasn't enough to bring her the comfort she needed, and she wanted her mommy. And eventually, because exhaustion was beginning to take the upper hand on her, and she had understood that she'd never come back home.

Now, she didn't cry that much anymore. She had got used to her thumb being her only comfort, and somehow, she didn't believe her parents would scold her anymore. Actually, she wondered if they were sad; if they even remembered her. And a part of her mind hoped that they were thinking of her at this very moment, while she was thinking of them.

* * *

Debbie Scotts pressed the teddy bear to her chest and leaned her side against the doorframe, glancing around her daughter's room. There was no dust on the shelves, no dirt under the bed. The cuddly toys on the chest, the purple wallpaper, the pink curtains, even the clothes in the closet; nothing had changed or moved. The silence, only, was new.

She knew what people thought, she felt their pitiful gazes on the back of her neck - her friends', her former colleagues', her family's; even her husband's. And she could hear their whispers. No, she hadn't moved on. She couldn't.

She put the teddy bear back on the chest with his mates. She'd keep on tidying the room, and make sure everything's in place, just in case, until she'd know what had become of Sarah, her little girl.

Her little lost girl.

* * *

_**A**__**/N : I know the chapter wasn't mostly about Brennan and Booth, but I promise interesting things in the next one!**_


	6. On edge

_**A/N : Hey everyone, and thanks again for **__**your reviews. To begin, I'd like to talk about the WGA strike. We're all sad that we're going to get only 12 episodes of Bones for this season, but this could change if the strike ends before January. On my profile, I gave the link to sign the petition to support the writers. I signed it, please do it, too. I don't know how much impact it could have but, well, let's try to do what we can, and it only takes some seconds.**_

_**Then, I apologize for updating so late but I was away for some days.**_

_**Good reading, anyway!**_

* * *

**Chapter 6 : On edge**

He knew how patient she was with him. How attentive, how careful she managed to be. They hadn't had an argument since the beginning of the case, which could be called a miracle. And this was thanks to Bones – his Bones. Because starting from the day they had met, when he had thought the worst of her – haughty, cold, irritating - she had begun to slowly become the kindest friend ever. And now, even when she didn't share his opinions and let him know, he could feel that she respected him. She understood him, or at least, she tried to. She had become, somehow, a different person - a better person, he'd say. And he liked to think that he had helped her change.

This night, more than ever, she was an appreciated support to him. When, again, he had been willing to isolate himself and call his son before he went to bed, she hadn't laughed or pointed out that it was the second time that day, and the fourth time since the day before. She had given him a sympathetic, gentle smile – the kind of smile that never failed to make his heart melt.

* * *

Brennan gave her partner a smile before he turned around. Somehow, it had seemed that he was begging for it, as if he needed encouragement or reassurance. It wasn't their first case about children, yet it was the first time she had seen him like this. Maybe because she hadn't noticed it before – because, to be honest, she didn't really pay attention to anyone. So how come she had suddenly become such an empathetic person? In any case, this sudden display of vulnerability moved her, and this look in his eyes, it broke her heart.

Thoughtfully, she watched him walk away, his cell phone already in his hand. When he was out of sight, she stood up and left the table they had been sitting at, making her way to the bar, for she felt like emptying a glass of sweet wine. She settled herself on a stool and glanced around while the waiter prepared her order. A few people were sitting at tables. A businessman, typing on his computer; a couple, laughing while holding each other's hand; three men dressed in suits, joking with beers in their fists. She had never really taken the time to observe people this way before. Her mind had always been occupied with bones and whatever else had to do with them; science. Was she that selfish?

The noise made by the glass coming to sit on the counter startled her back to reality. She murmured a 'thank you' and closed her hand around the stem of the glass before raising it to her lips. She just had a taste, first, staring absently at the bottles behind the waiter; then, she swallowed more of the sweet liquid and put the glass down, relishing in the sensation of warmth spreading in her throat and stomach. She closed her eyes for a moment, heaving a sigh.

When she opened her eyelids again, a man was sitting on the stool beside her. She turned her attention back to her glass, lowering her gaze, and moistened her lips. She wasn't in the mood to talk right now. Not to a stranger, anyway. All she wanted was for Booth to come back. And how come she couldn't feel happy when he was not there? She took another sip of wine and noticed that her glass was now empty.

"May I offer you another drink? You really seem to need it."

When she turned her gaze to the man on her left, she realised that he was smiling – at her. Would she let him? She considered this option for a couple of seconds, before coming to the conclusion that, after all, she did need it, and it wouldn't kill her to accept a drink from a stranger.

"Sure", she accepted, nodding her head.

While the man was ordering the drinks, she took the time to observe him. Striped suit, brown hair, blue eyes, controlled movements, gentle hands. Handsome man.

"Ted."

"What?" she asked, arching her eyebrows.

"It's my name. Ted," he repeated with an amused smile.

"Oh, sorry. I'm Temperance."

"Well, nice to meet you, Temperance."

Beginning to feel more relaxed, she replied with a smile and he leaned slightly closer.

"Would you be bothered if I asked you something?"

"Well, you can ask me all the questions you want, it just doesn't mean I'm gonna answer."

"Good reply, Temperance. So I'll give it a try: why do you seem so thoughtful and sad?"

"Oh, I'm fine, I was lost in my thoughts, that's all. My work is bothering me", she felt obliged to precise.

"Well, you're beautiful when you're thoughtful, but you're even more gorgeous when you're smiling, you know."

"Thank you", she said simply, the comment not really moving her in any way. It was his subjective observation.

"So… What do you do for a living?" Ted asked after swallowing a sip of scotch.

"I'm a forensic anthropologist."

He seemed stunned and he frowned, as if he thought that she was mocking him; but soon, he understood that she was serious, and he winced.

"Aw… Now I understand why you're so depressed."

Brennan laughed, her annoyance now vanished. And she thought that she was allowed to have a little fun tonight.

* * *

She had told them all that she knew. Why she had left her five-year-old alone playing in the living room while she rushed to the supermarket to buy eggs. Pretty stupid, wasn't it?

She remembered exactly how long she had been gone - twenty minutes. It was not much, was it? But twenty minutes had been enough for her little girl to vanish.

She had explained that she had found the door ajar, although she and her husband always repeated to their daughter never to open the door to anybody.

She had specified that except the girl and her favourite doll, nothing in the house had disappeared.

She had admitted how consumed she was by guilt, and that Sarah would still be there if she had been a good mother.

She didn't really want to know what had happened to her little girl – what she had been subjected to; how much and how long she had suffered. All she wanted now was to bury her and move on.

Debbie Scott curled up on her couch. Yes, as soon as the FBI would release Sarah's little body, she and her husband would bury their daughter and provide her a nice funeral. Then, they would sell the house, get rid of all her things. Forget. Move on.

* * *

"Yeah, I love you too, bud. Sweet dreams."

Booth let his cell phone drop on the bed and let out a sigh. He felt so stupid, having to make sure Parker was all right every time he was investigating the murder of a child. But he couldn't help it.

He stood up, wondering if Bones was back in her room. As he obtained no answer after knocking on her door, he headed for the elevator. Making his way through the hall, he thought – or hoped - that maybe she was expecting him to join her at the bar of the hotel. It wouldn't do him any bad to have some drinks with his partner – and friend.

When he entered the bar, he didn't catch sight of her instantly. There were these three guys, talking and laughing very loudly; another guy, who seemed focused on the screen of his laptop; a couple, sharing a cocktail; another couple sitting on stools… Wait… It was Bones, sitting at the bar with some stupid guy.

Booth felt himself invaded by a wave of jealousy, annoyance, anger and disappointment. All these feelings mixed and prevented him from considering the best way to act and react. He quickened his pace and observed them as he was approaching. He noted the man's hand on the back of her stool, the way he leaned towards her, how close their faces were… Man, the guy was actually hitting on her!

"May I interfere?" he asked with forced politeness, turning his back to the other man pointedly.

"Hey Booth", Brennan greeted him with a smile.

"Hey, look, I–"

But she interrupted him, pushing him aside slightly so that he would move out of the way.

"This is Ted. Ted, meet my partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth."

"Yeah, nice to meet you man", Booth lied quickly before turning to Brennan again. "Look Bones, I really need to talk to you."

"I'm listening."

"No, I meant, I need to talk to you about the _case_. In _private_", he specified.

"Oh… Okay, give me five minutes, then."

Booth walked out of the room, but he couldn't help eyeing them from the door; he couldn't help feeling hurt at how disappointed she had looked. Was she giving him her number now? Jeez, the whole thing was driving him crazy. He rubbed his face, leaning against the wall of the hall. She'd better not catch him spying.

It took her barely three minutes to leave the guy and come over to him, but it seemed an eternity.

"So what's up? It sounded important… Did Cam call you?" she asked, following him to the elevator.

When the doors closed, he felt both relieved, for now she was sort of his prisoner, and nervous, for he wasn't sure how she would react.

"You could thank me", he said with the teasing and slightly arrogant voice and look he used subconsciously when he felt ill at ease.

"For what?"

"For saving you from that boring idiot."

She stared at him, puzzled.

"How can you tell he was boring?"

"Oh, c'mon Bones, by merely looking at his striped suit, I mean, who wears that except lawyers?"

"I still don't get how his clothes can tell you if he's boring or not. Actually, he wasn't, and we were having a pleasant conversation until you arrived. So, what was so important you had to abduct me from the bar?" she asked, eyeing him expectantly.

As the doors opened, he gave her a look of apology before throwing her his charm smile.

"Well, I told you, I just meant to –"

"To what? Wait…" she said, pointing her finger at him accusingly. "There's nothing up about the case, is there?"

"Look, I'm sorry Bones, I thought that maybe –"

"That maybe I needed you to ruin my night? Well, thank you!"

"Look, you can still go back, can't you?" he suggested, a sheepish look stretched across his face.

"No, go there yourself, I'm not in the mood anymore", she barked before entering her room and slamming the door in his face.

* * *

Brennan walked towards the window, pissed. How dared he think for her? It was precisely the kind of behaviour she loathed. Especially coming from men. Especially from Booth, who should know to respect her independence. After all the patience she had gathered, all the understanding, the kindness she had displayed.

She took off her shoes, sat cross-legged on the bed, huffing, and grabbed the remote control. No matter how much she despised television, she was going to spend the rest of the night stuck in her room.

* * *

Booth let himself drop on his bed and stared at the ceiling. She was right. How dared he do this? This time, he had gone too far. He kept acting like an idiot. An argument with her was the last thing that he desired, and here was the result of his own stupidity.

He sat straight, sighing, and grabbed for the remote control. No matter what programmes would air, there was nothing he could do but wait for Bones to calm down. If she'd go out of her room, he'd hear the door, anyway. And in an hour or so, he'd go knock at her door and apologise.

* * *

The first knocks she bluntly ignored. When she heard the second ones, she merely turned up the volume. And only when he insisted a third time, she switched off the television and got to her feet before opening the door and letting him enter, her arms crossed across her chest.

She was still mad at him – not surprisingly. He stumbled to form words, aware that it wasn't gonna be easy to make this right.

"Look, Bones… I shouldn't have… done… that. I'm sorry."

She leaned her back against the wall, pouting.

"You admit that you acted like an idiot then?" she asked abruptly.

He cleared his throat.

"I apologise."

"You admit it or not?"

"Whoa, Bones, yes, I admit it, okay?" he said louder than he intended.

"There's no need to raise your voice, Booth!" she barked. "I just wanna know why you did it!"

The way she was yelling at him, the arrogance in her eyes and the anger in her voice caused him to feel filled with growing anger. He had apologised, twice. What did she want from him? Him on his knees, begging her pardon? That was so not gonna happen.

"Why, Bones? I'll tell you why! Because we're here to _work_, we're supposed to stay concentrated on the case, and you, you're drinking wine with some stupid lawyer."

He saw a spark of fury pass in her clear eyes, which were now grey compared to their usual fresh light blue.

"You're saying that I wasn't professional?"

"What I'm saying Bones, is that you're driving me crazy, because every time I see a guy…"

He stopped, realising what he had been about to say.

"Everytime you see a guy, what?"

"Uh…"

Booth thanked God for Bones' cell phone somehow decided to ring at this exact moment. She threw him a deadly glare before walking to the desk and grabbing the phone.

"Brennan", she almost snapped.

He waited, expecting the call to come from one of the squints. But when he saw her face suddenly falling, he understood that this didn't have anything to do with work.

"Yeah, I… Okay… Thanks…"

He came closer as she hung up, seeming stunned and shocked.

"I-it's my father, he… He's been stabbed by another prisoner during dinner… He's in the hospital, they say he's lost a lot of blood…"

Despite her anger with him it was him she turned to immediately, bursting into sobs against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her back and shoulders, pulling her closer, and he realised what a fool he had been. In the end she would turn to him when she was sad. What they had was so much deeper than an occasional date… As she pressed her face into his shoulder, wetting his shirt with her tears of fear for her father's life, and he lowered his head to whisper words of comfort into her ear, they both instantly forgot their fight that already seemed to have occurred so far in the past.

* * *

_**A/N : **__** I have to admit that I wasn't in my best mood when I wrote this chapter (it sometimes happens, right?) and I was so not happy with it, but I wanted to write it before I left. So, a big big thank you to my beta Catherine for her corrections and a bigger thank you (if it's possible) for changing my last phrase (which I told her was crap anyway, lol) in a wonderful (and powerful, moving, efficient…) paragraph which I didn't change because it was just perfect (as always, Catherine, when you write).**_

_**Chapter 7 is already being beta-ed so I guess I'll be able to update soon.**_


	7. I'm lucky I have you

_**A/N : Hey everybody! Thanks for the kind reviews, as usual. And a big thank to you Catherine, for being so patient to me (I'm a little absent-minded and sometimes I send her a chapter with missing words or an unfinished phrase, even if it's no voluntary of course).**_

_**Good reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter 7 : I'm lucky I have you**

As Brennan hung up, she felt the world collapsing around her. As much as she had hated her father until recently, she has now accepted the idea of forgiving him and being loved by him, thus the idea of losing him for good was more painful and terrifying than she could bear.

When her eyes met Booth's, she knew she didn't even have to explain, really; that he had understood long before she spoke. But she did it all the same.

"It's my father, he… He's been stabbed by another prisoner during the meal… He's at the hospital, they say he's lost a lot of blood…"

Only then, she threw herself in the arms which were there to catch her, and which, curiously, always belonged to the same person— her partner. And once she was in his arms, she felt like the unbearable could, after all, be endured. The soothing gesture of his hands stroking her hair, the comforting warmth of him, calmed her tears more quickly than she thought was possible.

A thought stroke her. A couple of minutes earlier, they were barking at each other. And now, he was holding her tightly, securely in his arms. He would never let her fall, he would always be there to help. Their fight seemed so stupid to her now, so ridiculous—almost laughable.

She drew away, leaving reluctantly the warmth of his chest and the protection of his arms, and wiped the moisture from her eyes and cheeks.

"I'm gonna leave now—rent a car."

He hadn't released her completely, his hands still resting on her upper arms.

"Out of question, Bones. I'm driving you."

"Well, thank you, Booth, but you can't leave, there's the case and—"

"Washington is only a two-hour-drive from here. And at this hour, we'll travel even faster. So pack your things. I'm driving you."

She stared at him before nodding her agreement. His tone suggested that he'd accept no protest from her. And she decided that it was good for her.

* * *

She hadn't meant to scream. The squeak had escaped her mouth when she had seen the spider crawling on the wall.

Her eyes wide open and with both hands over her mouth, as if she still had time to hold the scream back, Chloe began to shake—and it wasn't from the cold of the ground under her bare feet.

When the door was thrown open, she stood straight, her arms hanging beside her body, and turned to face him, a look of guilt and fear stretched across her childish features.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to. It's just—the spider, it was on the wall, and—and I was surprised. I'm so sorry, I won't do it again, I promise…"

She bowed her head guiltily, ashamed, afraid to meet his gaze, and tried to control the shivers that made her body tremble. Fixing her eyes on the floor, she saw his shadow moving closer, and soon his strong hand grabbed her arm. He was squeezing it so firmly that she had a hard time preventing herself from moaning.

"You're telling me you made me come downstairs for nothing?" he barked.

"I'm sorry", she repeated in a small voice, not daring raise her gaze.

Tears began to fill her eyes as he shook her hard.

"Look me in the eyes! Did you or did you not make me come downstairs for a spider?"

Blinking back her tears, she let her eyes turn up to him, without raising her head.

"I'm sorry", she apologised in a hoarse, weak voice.

She knew she absolutely had to contain her sobs of fright, or it would be worse.

"Remember what we talked about, Becky?"

"Yes."

Her answer was too quiet or it didn't satisfy him, for he shook her once more.

"Do you remember, Becky?" he hissed.

"Yes, I remember what we talked about", she managed to utter.

"Yes who?"

"Yes Sam", she recited quickly.

"Are you gonna be a good girl now?"

"Yes, Sam, I'll be a good girl now. I promise I won't do it again."

"I hope so, Becky."

He finally let go of her. She didn't dare rub her aching arm, nor did she lower her gaze. Holding her breath, she watched him pace to the door. He would let her be, for tonight. It was enough for her.

* * *

He had wished he could hold her in his arms, this night. He had wished he could hold her tight, caress her silky hair, feel her snuggling against his body—but not like this. Her panicked look had made his throat tighten, her tears had made his heart sink. And now that they were travelling back to DC, with too little information about Max's condition, he could still feel a knot in his stomach.

What if he died? What if Max died? All the sorrow caused by his running in and out of her life would have been useless; all the painful efforts to forgive him and gradually learn to love him would have been in vain. Well, not in vain, really. She'd rather think of her dead father like someone she loved than someone she hated. But it would be way more difficult, and it would hurt her so much more—the mere idea of this made the stone in his stomach heavier.

"We'll be there in about an hour and a half. You should get some sleep", he said in a soft voice.

Her eyes stopped staring out the right window and gave him an empty look.

"Thank you, but I'm not sleepy."

He could understand that, and called himself an idiot. How in the world could she sleep when she didn't know if she would be able to talk to her father ever again? To see him, touch him, have the comfort of his words never again?

He glanced at her. Her gaze had returned to the window. Keeping one hand on the wheel, his other hand searched for her left one, resting on her lap. He took it and squeezed it gently. As she felt his contact, she turned her head to him again.

"I can't promise you it's gonna be all right, Bones. But I can promise you that whatever happens, I'll be there."

Her empty look filled with gratitude and relief.

"Thank you, Booth", she said in a small voice.

He noticed that she had been about to add something, but she gave him a slight smile instead. And it was enough for him.

* * *

Brennan felt her heart warm with gratefulness. Nobody had done this for her before, nobody. And everything seemed less painful when he was around. She had been about to say 'I'm lucky I have you', but the words had somehow got stuck in her throat. Instead, she managed to give him a slight smile, hoping that it would be enough for him to understand what she felt.

She let her gaze travel back to the window. He had been about to say something, too, earlier, before the phone had rung. She didn't recall his exact words, but she did remember what she had thought of his behaviour then—it hadn't felt like he had been angry, really; more like he had been hurt.

Focusing on his partner rather than her father was a way to unwind. She tried to replay the scene in her mind. He had begun to reproach her that she had accepted a drink from a guy at the bar of the hotel. And she had felt offended, like she did every time somebody questioned her professionalism—especially offended, because it came from him. And then, he had said 'You're driving me crazy'.

Yes, those were his exact words, she remembered them very well, now. 'You're driving me crazy, because every time I see a guy…' Every time he saw a guy, what? Was he jealous? She laughed at herself. This was huge nonsense. Hadn't he encouraged her when she had asked him for a piece of advice about leaving or not with Sully? But this had been months ago. A lot had changed since then. And hadn't she herself felt a hint of what could be called jealousy when Cam had let slip this dinner thing?

She turned her head slowly to look at him. He seemed focused on the road, his brow slightly knitted. She thought back of how their relationship had evolved since they had been working together—growing acceptance of the other, growing respect, growing friendship. Being jealous at seeing the other with someone else, was that the next logical step?

He had most probably felt her gaze on him because his eyes left the road to look at her. And as he did this, his slight frown disappeared.

"You okay?" he asked worryingly.

She nodded and answered without lying.

"Yes. I'm gonna be just fine."

* * *

Chloe startled at the noise of the door being opened again. She didn't make a move but saw the light coming from upstairs, and his impressive form coming closer. She tensed up when he sat on the bed and leaned over her. His warm, bad breath made her sick.

"I'm sorry, Becky, sweetheart. I didn't mean to be so harsh."

She shivered when she felt his big rough fingers running through her hair.

"But I'm not angry anymore, now."

His fingers moved to her cheek.

"You're not actually sleepy, are you?"

She shook her head vigorously. No matter what the truth was, she knew the answers he expected, now.

"Will you be a good girl if I let you sit on my lap while watching TV?"

She nodded, forcing a smile despite the knot in her stomach, and she held her breath when he rejected the sheets and lifted her in his arms.

"You're cold, poor thing."

With this statement, she realised that she was shaking uncontrollably. But it was not from the cold.

* * *

It was over midnight when they entered the bleak and always bustling Washington General. When Brennan stood at the reception of the emergency room, the woman behind the desk barely paid attention to her.

"Good evening. I'd like to see Max Keenan, please", she asked politely.

"You family?" the woman inquired without even bothering looking up from the papers she was working on.

"I'm his daughter", Brennan answered calmly.

At last, the woman deigned raising her head, and she put a form on the counter.

"Fill this in and come back when you're finished", she ordered in a harsh voice before returning to her tasks.

Brennan stared at the form, stunned, before turning to Booth, powerless. In other conditions, she would have found the cutting words which would have given her what she wanted. But at this moment, she was just too tired for this. In a protective and soothing gesture, he wrapped his arm around her waist and leaned closer to whisper in her ear.

"Let me handle this", he said with a smirk, indicating that he now took things under control.

He slapped the desk with his fingers, attempting to catch the woman's attention. "Excuse me?"

"What is it?" the woman mumbled without looking at him.

Out of patience, Booth drew his badge out of his pocket and flashed it open before the woman's eyes.

"Special Agent Seeley Booth, FBI, I'd like to see Max Keenan as quickly as possible."

The woman's eyes turned up to him.

"Fourth floor. Your colleagues are already there", she announced, visibly annoyed. "He's still in surgery. You won't be able to see him before he wakes up."

"See. It was not that complicated", Booth said teasingly, leading his partner to the elevator with his hand on the small of her back.

"I wish I had a badge like yours", she sighed. "Maybe Hodgins could make me one. I'm pretty sure he's got a false one himself."

Booth stopped, his eyes growing wide in shock. "You're kidding me, right?"

She managed to hold his gaze seriously for a couple of seconds before letting out a chuckle.

"Very funny, Bones", he said, letting out a nervous laugh.

When they entered the elevator and the doors closed, he noticed that her smile had faded from her face. After he had pushed the '4' button, he felt her leaning slightly against him, as if subconsciously seeking for support. In response, he tightened his grip on her waist, rubbing her back comfortingly with his thumb.

When the doors opened on the fourth floor, Booth scanned the vast hallway, and immediately took sight of one of his colleagues, moaning about the coffee machine.

"Hey, Carter", he called, letting go of Brennan's waist.

The man turned around and waved his hand at Booth, smiling. "Hey Booth! I'd offer you coffee, but the fucking machine's just swallowed my coin, giving me nothing. What are you doing here, by the way?"

"We're here to see Max Keenan."

The agent frowned, then his eyes stopped on Brennan and he understood.

"Meet my partner, Doctor Temperance Brennan."

Carter gave her an awkward smile. "Glad to meet you, Doctor Brennan." He turned to Booth, feeling more comfortable talking to him than to Keenan's daughter. "I'm afraid Max Keenan is in the intensive care unit right now. You'll have to wait a couple of hours before you can talk to him. He was attacked by another prisoner while he was standing in the chow line. He's lost a lot of blood but the emergency aid was quick. The surgeon said that no vital organ was hit, and that he didn't fear for his life."

Brennan realised that she had been holding her breath. She let out a slight sigh of relief.

"Look, I'm sorry man but Anderson's waiting for me to return. Why don't you guys go to the waiting room, and I'll give you a call when he wakes up?"

Booth patted his colleague's shoulder, grateful.

"Thank you, bud. We'll be there. C'mon, Bones", he said, grabbing her arm gently. After some steps, he stopped and turned around. "Oh, and, Carter?"

The agent turned his head at hearing his name. "Yep?"

"You've never seen me here."

With a single nod and a smile, Carter told him that he understood. Booth mouthed a 'Thank you' before turning again and leading his partner to the waiting room. With relief, he noted that she had sort of relaxed.

"Maybe you should go now, Booth", Brennan said as they were sitting in the empty room. "I can wait alone. I don't want you to be in trouble because of me."

"Who said I was gonna be in trouble?"

"Booth, you're supposed to be working on a case, and—"

"So are you."

"My hierarchy is more comprehensive than yours is. Besides, it's about my father."

Booth shifted to face her completely.

"Look, Bones. I'm the one who put your old man in jail. Somehow, it's my fault."

She stared at him thoughtfully, considering what he had just said.

"He could have run away. You did what you had to do."

"You know, there's not a day when I'm not wondering if I did what was right."

"You don't still think I hold a grudge against you, do you?"

He slowly shook his head. "I don't know. You tell me."

"Booth, I… I don't, okay? I mean, thanks to this, I have been able to talk to him, take the time to get to know him, without him always fleeing. So… Thank you."

As an answer, he gave her a smile and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, inviting her to rest her head on his shoulder.

"You should try to sleep. It might be a long wait."

He slightly tilted her head to the side, her face twisted in an expression of protest. "Booth…"

"C'mon, Bones. You're exhausted."

She opened her mouth but found nothing and settled her head on his strong, reassuring shoulder. He tightened his arm around her and softly squeezed her upper arm, relishing in the feeling of her against him and her warm breath caressing his neck.

Brennan closed her eyes and, for the first time since the past hours of stress and dread, she admitted that she felt good. She admitted that she felt safe, that she didn't feel the need to be alone, she didn't feel like he was invading her privacy.

"You know what?" she asked with a sleepy voice.

"What?"

"I'm lucky I have you."

Booth smiled and, fighting the urge to bury his nose in her hair, he let his hand stroke tenderly her upper arm.

"I'm lucky I have you, too."

* * *

_**A/N :**__** I hope you liked the chapter. Next chapter isn't written yet, I haven't even begun… Actually I spent the afternoon making a BB video, I'll post the link on my profile when it's finished. I'll update this story as soon as possible, I promise !**_


	8. Helpless surrender

_**A/N : **__**I'm aware it's been quite a while since I updated with last chapter but I was so excited about The Spoiler (winks at Piratesmiley) that I just couldn't write anymore lol. But this chapter is very long compared to the others so I think it was worth waiting. Good reading anyway!**_

* * *

**Chapter 8 : Helpless surrender**

Booth opened his eyes at the unpleasant feeling of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket, startled to realise that he had finally surrendered to sleep. During over two hours, he had been holding his partner, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, her head resting on his chest. After spending so much time in the same position, he had pins and needles in his arm. Yet, he hadn't moved, afraid that she would awake and move away from him, while this guilty but irrepressible part of his mind ordered that he'd keep her snuggled against him.

He hadn't dared looking at her, first. But when her breathing had become steady, he hadn't been able to resist and he had lowered his gaze to her sleepy face. Again, he had fought the urge to stroke her silky auburn hair, caress her smooth milky skin, like earlier in the car. But unlike earlier in the car, he had had plenty of time to admire her delicate features, relish in the delightful feeling of her body pressed against his. He had tingled when she had moaned and moved in her sleep, nestling her face even more in his chest, and sliding her hand up to his shoulder.

Eventually, although the chair he was sitting on was everything but comfortable, he himself had closed his eyes and, rocked by the sound of her breathing and warmed by the heat of her body, he had slowly slipped into a deep, peaceful sleep.

He dug his hand in the pocket of his jeans and pulled out his cell phone. "Yep? Yeah. Okay, thanks, Carter. That's very nice of you."

"It was Carter, wasn't it?" Brennan's sleepy voice asked.

"Yeah…" Booth replied thoughtfully, watching her sitting straight and stretching her limbs.

"What time is it?"

Booth glanced down at his watch. "Quarter past four."

"I'm sorry, I didn't crush you, did I?" she worried, realising that she had been sleeping in his arms for several hours.

"No, Bones, you didn't crush me." He gave her a smile, although he now cruelly missed the warmth and comfort of her. "You snored though," he added in a desperate attempt to distract his mind from these thoughts.

She stared at him for a couple of seconds, confused, before understanding that he was actually joking. She slapped his arm teasingly in response.

"Ouch! Whoa, Bones, is this your way to thank me for having been your pillow?"

"I know that I don't snore, anyway," she retorted with a pout.

"By the way, just in case you're interested, your father is awake," he said with a gentle tone. "You can go see him."

He saw her expression change clearly from amusement to apprehension. "Oh… Thank you Booth."

He watched her stand up slowly. When she noticed that he wasn't following her, she turned to him hesitantly. "You—You're not coming with me?"

The expression stretched across her face surprised him. Never had he seen her with such an insecure, almost childish look. Moved by his always-ready instinct of protection towards her, he got to his feet and came close to her, sliding a comforting arm around her shoulders.

"It's gonna be all right, Bones. It's gonna be all right", he said reassuringly, leading her to her father's room. When they stopped at the door, he rubbed her back soothingly, gazing at her worried blue eyes. "Now I'm gonna grab us some coffee", he said with a slight smile before letting go of her, not giving her the chance to protest.

It somehow felt like the day he had accompanied her to her mother's grave. He had led her as far as he could. Now, she had to undertake the rest of the journey on her own.

He turned around and watched her from a distance. She hesitated during a couple of seconds in front of the door before opening it slowly. When she had disappeared, he headed to the coffee machine, a slight tender smile curving the line of his mouth.

* * *

She wasn't nervous. She was terrified. So many feelings were coursing through her that it was hard to distinguish them all. She still felt a grudge for the lies he had told and the sorrow he had caused; fear, for the panic that had assailed her when she had thought she'd never be able to talk to him again; relief for the prognosis given by the doctors; apprehension for she didn't know what she was going to tell him.

She realised that her hand, closed around the handle, was trembling slightly. She pulled the door open and her eyes travelled down the lying form of her father. She closed the door quietly behind her, then moved closer to him. What struck her wasn't his injury or the perfusion connected to his arm, but his eyes glowing with joy and the smile that appeared on his lips at the sight of her. Suddenly, she knew what to tell him. But the words somehow got stuck in her throat.

"Thanks for coming, honey."

His voice was so weak, and his face, so pale, that tears began to fill her eyes.

"Why do you thank me? I'm your daughter, I—I came as soon as I knew", she said in a shaking voice, sitting down on a chair close to him.

He moved his arm and covered her small, delicate hand with his big, rough one.

"It's okay, sweetheart. I've undergone much worse in my life, you know that. I'm gonna be fine. And hey, the beds are much more comfortable here. I'm pretty sure it's the same for food", he said teasingly.

How could he always be so cheerful, so positive… so confident… He gave her hand a squeeze. How come he was the one comforting her when he was the one lying on this hospital bed?

"I'm sorry, Dad… I wish I knew the right words…and… and the right thing to do. But I'm afraid I'm not good at this."

"Temperance, honey… Don't be so tough for yourself. I'm so happy you're here. I wish Russ was here, too."

"I'm sorry, Dad. I wish I could promise you that he could show up in DC without having any problems, but I'd be lying."

"I know. And I'm sorry you had to come all the way from Virginia to see me."

Brennan raised an eyebrow. "How do you know I was in Virginia?"

His mysterious smirk told her that he wouldn't answer the question, but it didn't matter. He cared enough about her to know where she was, and when—just as before, when he was hiding. Just in case she'd never come see him again, he always kept a trace on her. And this realisation, added to the exhaustion and the fear she had felt earlier, caused her to burst into tears.

"I thought I'd lost you, Dad."

Grabbing her arm gently, he beckoned her to him. And as she was letting out tears of fright and tiredness against his chest, he stroked the hair of the woman who, for this moment at least, was his little girl again.

* * *

"This one's broken, remember?"

Booth turned around, surprised by the voice of his colleague. "Oh… yeah… That's right…"

"So how's your partner doing?" Carter asked, moving closer to him.

"She… Well, she's gonna be fine. Thank you man, it was very kind of you, you were not obliged to do all this."

"Hey, you're welcome bud", Carter said, patting his elbow friendly. "I wish someone would do the same for my girlfriend if she was in trouble."

"What? Oh, no, Bones, she's my partner—nothing more", Booth corrected, hiding the embarrassment in his voice extremely badly.

"Oh—uh, okay then. I'm sorry, I thought that you two—"

"No", Booth cut him firmly.

"Because judging from the way you were looking at her, I presumed that you—"

"No!"

Carter chuckled. "Still, you accompanied her from Virginia, and you—"

"We're _friends_, okay? We're partners and we're good friends."

Carter smiled but said nothing, unwilling to annoy his colleague more than he already had—not under these circumstances, anyway.

"There's another coffee machine, on the other side of the building", he said, showing Booth the way. "I'd better go back, now. See ya."

"Thanks again, Carter. I won't forget it."

"Sure", the agent said before heading back to his post. But after some steps, he turned on his heels. "Oh, by the way… I don't let my partner sleep in my arms", he said with a grin and a suggestive raising of eyebrows before turning around quickly, not granting Booth the chance to retort that it was probably due to the fact that Carter's partner was called Chuck and didn't have a lot of hair left on his skull.

* * *

When Brennan left the room, she saw Booth waiting for her, leaned against the wall, with two cups of coffee in his hands. He led her back to the waiting room, and settled himself in one of the uncomfortable chairs they had slept on. She sat beside him, letting out a sigh, and took with gratitude the Styrofoam cup that he was handing her.

"Thanks, Booth."

"You can drink, it's not that hot now", he said with a smirk.

She smiled at the memory of him putting his hand over her coffee cup, to prevent her from burning herself.

"I'm careful now, when I'm with you", she said teasingly, sinking in her seat and gazing at the wall in front of her. "Wouldn't want you to make me kiss your hand again", she mumbled before taking a sip of the hot liquid.

"Haha! So you admit that you kissed it", he said with a victorious tone.

"No!" she let out indignantly. "I was only repeating what you said then."

He sat straighter in his chair and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, grinning. "It's okay Bones, you know, you don't have to apologise for this."

She turned her head to him, an annoyed look stretched across her features. "I did not—" She stopped, staring at him, and a smile came back to her lips. "You're teasing me, right?"

He chuckled as an answer. She knew how to read his eyes, now. She knew him well enough for this. And this was definitely not his let-me-see-how-long-it-will-take-you-to-fly-off-the-handle look. It was a hopefully-it-will-distract-you-from-your-dark-thoughts one.

"So, how's your father doing?"

* * *

He knew that, in those small towns, there was a chance of at least one in a million for such a case to happen during a sheriff's career. He was also aware that, when investigators had been ordered by the FBI after the first corpse had been found, he was likely to receive this phone call. Hanging up his phone, Sheriff John Garett turned his eyes to the ceiling, asking God out loud why in the world all this had to happen to him.

He entered the bedroom where his wife was still half-asleep quietly; he kissed her tenderly on the forehead, whispered reassuring words in her ear. He took his uniform from the closet and stepped out, pulling the door closed quietly behind him. He got dressed, fastened his shoelaces, grabbed his keys and headed to his car. It was still early in the morning, but the FBI buddies had been working for over an hour now—since sunrise. So what was he complaining about?

Yet, when he settled himself in the driver's seat, he huffed with both annoyance and dread. And, scratching his beard nervously, he dialled Agent Booth's number.

* * *

Although she wasn't actually asleep, she kept her eyes closed but pricked up her ears. She felt him sitting up, then getting heavily to his feet. Even with her eyes closed, she could see the light through her eyelids. He leaned over her, kissed her brow, but she didn't move, still pretending to be deeply asleep. She dared open one eye when she was sure he was turning his back to her. He had slipped on his uniform. She knew how much he liked to wear it.

When the door of the bedroom closed, she smiled in relief and turned to lie on her back, stretching her arms. Her eyes now wide open, she relished in the sensation of a warm ray of light on her face. The sound of him locking the door told her that he was gone; that he'd be gone for several hours, and that, as he hadn't bothered locking her in the cellar, he was having one of his good days.

Chloe stood up. The wooden floor, against her bare feet, wasn't cold like the cement ground of the dark room where she had to spend most of her time. She headed to the window, hesitating. She was dying to open it, push open the shutters, and breathe the early morning air. But she didn't dare to. She walked towards the bathroom, sighing sadly. She didn't even think about running away. The forest was vast, filled with dangerous animals during the day, and terrible monsters at night. She knew she would never make it; it wasn't worth taking the risk. If the monsters didn't catch her, _he_ would. And there would never be any good days again.

* * *

She had understood before he told her— by the tone of his voice when he had been talking on the phone, by the look on his face when he hung up.

"The team found another body. A child, again."

"We gotta go back, then."

"I'll go. You stay here with your father."

"No, Booth, I can't. I gotta go back to work."

He placed his hands on her arms, squeezing them slightly. "You stay here with him. He needs you, Bones."

She huffed with resignation. "You'll send me the body?"

"Only if you promise me to take care of your father—and to get some sleep."

"You slept less than me", she protested.

But then her words, her very thought, trailed off as he gazed into her eyes and smiled that wonderful smile of his.

"I'll call you when I get there, if it reassures you," he said mischievously.

She let out a quiet laugh before closing the slight space that was still separating them and hugged her partner. His arms felt so good, so powerful. He was holding her close and she could feel his warm breath on her cheek.

"Thank you, Booth."

She forced her head to leave the comfort of his chest, just enough to look him in the eyes. He didn't release her. His face was so close she could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. She could feel the entire length of his body, his legs, his torso, pressed against her as his lips gently brushed hers, her heart pounding at a furious pace.

But then he pulled back, as if having second thoughts. Feet shuffled past nearby, but the people seemed miles away. She felt completely alone with him, weak in his arms. Safe in his arms. He drew her closer, then, as if overcome, as if he was in the grip of something he could no longer control. She saw in his eyes a kind of helpless surrender. And a split second later, he was pressing his lips against hers, again.

Brennan stood rock still, surprised that he was actually doing it, kissing her, holding her in his arms, something that seemed so not partners-like. And then her arms tightened and she was holding him, too, kissing him back. She had never imagined that anything could feel so wonderfully intoxicating. In over two years of partnership, she had never thought such a thing could happen. She hadn't had the time to think about it. He hadn't let her decide whether it was good or wrong.

A helpless moan escaped her throat as he held her tight, hugging her fiercely, kissing her with passionate abandon. She was acutely aware of his arm encircling the small of her back, his other arm behind her shoulders, her breasts pressed against the hard muscles of his chest, his mouth pressed to hers, his own needful moan in answer to hers.

Unexpectedly, it ended. It was almost as if he had recovered his composure and forced himself back. Brennan panted, catching her breath. She liked the way it felt to be held by him. Inches apart, they gazed into each other's eyes.

It was all so startling, so quick, so unexpected. So confusing. So right.

Something in her wanted to melt into another embrace, another delicious kiss, but when she remembered who those arms belonged to, she pulled herself together. Booth pulled away from her. Dizziness, dread, joy and doubt at the same time were stretched across his face. He licked his lips, opened his mouth, but no word came out.

She felt the same way—speechless. She wished she had known what to say. She was both warm and cold. The butterflies flapping their wings in her stomach created a weird feeling which made her legs tremble with some pleasant feeling, but which at the same time hurt her like hell. She felt good, and yet, she was terrified.

"Doctor Brennan?"

Brennan startled as she hadn't ever startled in her whole life. She took a step away from her partner and turned her head, searching for the origin of the voice. A nurse with a kind smile was looking at her, her head slightly tilted on the side.

"Yes?"

"Doctor Walsh would like to talk to you about your father, if you'd follow me."

"Oh—uh—yes, sure," she stammered before turning to Booth. "Drive safely."

She managed to give him a smile, as if nothing had just happened. _"Drive safely"…_ Could she have thought of something more stupid and inappropriate to say?

She let herself be guided through the corridors by the nurse, trying to chase the remaining burning sensation of his lips on hers. She didn't know what that kiss had meant, or where it could lead them, if anywhere. She wasn't sure she wanted it to. She wasn't sure he did. She feared he didn't.

* * *

_**A/N : **__**For the last part, I was inspired by a book of my favorite author, Terry Goodkind, which I've just finished. If you like Fantasy, I really, really advise you this author, I love his stories ant all the different characters he develops—you're never bored. See you soon (according to my mood and my inspiration!) for next chapter.**_


	9. In her world

_**A/N : **_**_Hey everybody! I'm not asking you if you're happy, of course we're happy! Yay, Merry Christmas :D Now, let's wait patiently for January to come, and keep crossing fingers for the strike to end before the end of 2007. Again, thanks so much for the reviews, you're all very kind. I do know I'm a little long to update this story, but the case is more complicated and it takes me more time to write it than Bloody Waters. _****_I don't wanna mess it all!_******

* * *

**Chapter 9 : In her world**

_This is the way we sweep the floor,  
Sweep the floor, sweep the floor.  
__  
_

He'd be happy when he comes back. He liked to find the house clean.

Chloe stretched the dish towel on the back of a chair and opened the door of the cupboard. The broom handle was higher than she was. She wondered how long it would take for her to reach the size of it. She knew she had grown a lot. When the clothes he had given her had become too short, he had given her other ones—although she didn't think that they were new, actually. They did not seem like new clothes. But they were pretty, so she didn't mind that another girl had worn them before her. It wasn't as if she had a choice, anyway. Most of time, he chose himself what she was going to wear.

She knew there had been another girl. She had worn these dresses and tee-shirts, before her. She didn't know what she looked like. She didn't know where she was, not even who she was. All she knew was that her name was Becky.

* * *

She was an idiot for having gotten too close to him. She was an idiot for letting him hug her. She was an idiot for throwing herself in his arms every time that something was wrong with her life. She was an idiot for having let him kiss her, an idiot for having kissed him back. She was an idiot for hoping he'd do it again.

She wanted him to do it again.

"… out of danger. Are you with us, Doctor Brennan?"

The doctor had raised his voice, choking her out of her private thoughts. She shot him a look of apology. He eyed her with sympathy, his head slightly tilted on the side.

"I know this is hard for you, " he said with a gentle voice. "But you're father's a strong man, he's gonna be fine soon, you'll see."

She thanked him silently for not adding "and back to jail soon".

"How long will it take?"

"Several days, obviously. If I can give you some advice, you should go home and get some sleep. You look exhausted."

"Thank you, Doctor…" She stopped, realizing that she hadn't paid attention when she had been told his name. And she blamed herself, for she remembered Booth reproaching her not to pay attention to anyone. Or maybe did she blame herself for thinking of him once again, too.

"Walsh," the man specified with a patient smile.

"I'm sorry. Thank you, Doctor Walsh."

"Get some sleep," he repeated, patting her arm friendly, before turning on his wheels and disappearing in the corridor.

* * *

_This is the way w__e sweep the floor,  
So early Tuesday morning._

She sometimes dreamt that she was someone else. She remembered some of the tales that her mother used to tell her. Sam didn't like tales—he said that these stories were for babies and fools. He liked other kind of books that he read her, holding her on his lap. She didn't like that. She didn't like sitting on his lap, and these stories, she didn't understand them. These books didn't have any pictures, and the words were too complicated.

When he asked her if she liked the story, she said yes. When he wondered if she understood it well, she nodded her agreement. But she didn't actually listen to him. The words slid on her mind like rain on her cheeks. She was never wet, if she didn't want to. She had her own stories, her own world—another reality that could replace the awful actual one whenever she needed to.

And this morning, as she was sweeping the floor, she found funny to be Cinderella.

* * *

He was a fool for falling for his partner. He was a fool, for this woman was Temperance Brennan. He was a fool for thinking of her all the time, a fool for thinking of her at all. He was a fool for kissing her in public. He was a fool for kissing her. He was a fool for wanting to do it again, a fool for wanting her. He was a fool for not being able to forget the burning contact of her lips on his, a fool for not being able to chase of his mind the taste of her mouth, a fool for…

"Anything wrong, sir?"

Booth turned his gaze to the agent standing in front of him, and realized that he had stopped unconsciously.

"Uh, no, that's ok," he mumbled, stepping past the man. He was a fool for thinking that his thought could be read on his face like an open book.

"Uh… Sir?"

Booth stopped, feeling helplessly annoyed. "What?"

"The first body's just here."

He lowered his eyes down the spot the agent was pointing his finger at, and caught sight of the little skeleton lying half-hidden among the dead leaves.

"Wait… Did you say 'the _first_ body'?" Booth asked with a grimace.

"Yes, sir. We didn't find one but two more bodies this morning. The other one's over there."

Three bodies. Three children. As he was following the agent, Booth thought that he was a fool for believing that investigating the death of a child was the worst thing ever, because investigating several of them was definitely a nightmare.

* * *

Brennan pushed closed the door of her apartment. She put her mail down on the table before having even taken a look at it. She looked at the clock and read that it was five past ten, but she didn't really pay attention to it. She felt lost, upset, scared. Too many feelings at the same time. Too many things had happened during the last few hours.

She took off her shoes, walked to the kitchen and served herself a glass of water. The cold liquid moistened her mouth and throat but didn't wash the burning sensation of his lips against hers. It quenched her thirst for water, but didn't calm her need of him.

She sat on the couch and closed her eyes, but it didn't work. It was but worse. So she forced herself to think about something else. Everything but him. She thought of her father. Earlier, she had concentrated her mind on her partner to stop thinking of her father. Now, it was the contrary. Ironic.

Her father. She had stayed with him during two more hours. She couldn't just have gone to sleep and leave him all alone. He had found her distracted, her mind elsewhere. He had told her to go home, several times. Eventually, she had listened to him. It had seemed to her more an order from a father to his daughter. So she had come back home. And now that she was home at last, she thought that she'd better sleep. What else was she there for, anyway?

She lay on the couch and closed her eyes. But the sleep seemed only just started when she woke, startled by the ringing of her cell phone. No need to glance at the screen to guess the caller's ID. She hesitated during a couple of long seconds before pressing the button.

"Brennan."

"Hey."

"Hi."

"I'm not waking you, am I?"

Booth's voice was unsteady, slightly shaky.

"No. You're not waking me," she answered, hiding the edginess in her voice better than he did.

The casual tone she employed seemed to unhinge him, for there was a silence before he talked again.

"Okay… Uh, so… I'm not sending you one more body but two. Two children."

"Oh. Okay then."

"I—" She heard him sigh. "Look, Bones, about… about earlier… I'm sorry, I shouldn't—"

"We shouldn't have—"

"Yeah."

"We're partners."

"Right. Partners. So… We're fine?"

"We're fine."

"Good. Call me if you find anything."

"Yep."

"Bye."

Brennan threw her cell phone on the couch with anger, before collapsing on it, her head in her hands. They had been comfortable around each other, before. Now, nothing would be the same anymore. She could see clearly what it would be like. They would avoid the other's gaze, shiver at the other's touch.

This damned awkwardness would settle comfortably between them.

She got on her feet, huffing with frustration, and headed to the bathroom. She took off her clothes, letting them slide down the floor, and jumped in the shower. The hot water relaxed her body and appeased her mind. When she felt calmer, she switched off the water and wrapped herself in a towel. She picked up the clothes on the floor and threw them in the hamper before entering her room and opening the closet.

She wasn't going back to sleep. She was going to the lab.

* * *

It was quarter to eleven when Brennan slid her card through the reader. Out of habit, she headed to her office, but before she reached it, she changed her mind and stopped at Angela's door. It would be unfair not to tell her that she was here.

The distract "yep" she heard after she had knocked told her that her friend was busy. And indeed, it took her a moment before she deigned turning her head from her computer screen.

"Zach, I told you I was—"

When she caught sight of Brennan, Angela interrupted herself, welcoming her with wide eyes, first, and then, with this beautiful smile of her that seemed reserved for her best friend.

"Brenn! What are you doing here, sweetie? Weren't you supposed to be in Virginia? Did Booth send you back to help Zach with the bodies? He called Cam this morning, and he told us about it… It's so horrible, I can't believe that…"

She stopped her interrogatory when she saw her friend closing the door behind her.

"Okay… There's something else…"

It wasn't a question. Angela sat up and moved closer to her friend, waiting for her to speak.

"Ange, I— I came back because my father is at the hospital," she explained, as neutral as possible.

Muffling a cry of shock with her hand on her mouth, Angela wrapped her arms around her friend's body.

"Oh sweetie… I'm so sorry, I don't know what to say. If I can do anything—"

"It's okay," Brennan said, pulling herself from her friend's embrace, just enough to look at her in the eyes. "They scared me on the phone, that's why I rushed here without telling anyone, but he's out of danger now. He'll be released in a few days, he's gonna be fine. But, please, don't tell anyone."

"Don't worry, I'll keep my mouth shut," Angela reassured her friend.

"Even with Hodgins?"

"Mouth shut. Even with Jack."

Brennan smiled. Now, it was time to think a little less about herself, and a little more about the two children whose bodies were to arrive soon.

* * *

She startled at the noise of the door being slashed opened. She couldn't help it. She couldn't help thinking that, one day, it would be another person who would cross the door. A handsome man who would take her in his arms and hold her tight. A gentle man who would whisper reassuring words in her ear. A strong man who wouldn't be afraid of Sam. Someone who would bring her back to her mom and dad.

She could keep imagining it, as long as she hadn't seen him yet—as long as she hadn't heard him talk, yet. Why would it be Sam, inevitably?

She closed her eyes, as if to make her alternative reality more actual.

"What are you doing, Becky? You sleeping?"

His rough voice brought her out of her reverie. Today was not the day.

* * *

_**A/N : **_**_See you soon for next chapter!_**


	10. Sleep on

_**A/N :**__** Here it is, the chapter I struggled to finish. I hope you'll like it, it's difficult because it gives some more details about the case and this stuff is never easy to do (for me, I mean). For the end, I was inspired by an episode of The Inside (although I really adapted it a lot to fit Bones and my story, but I wanted to mention it ) and this same episode will inspire another chapter. Yeah I know I'm obsessed with The Inside, not in the same way than Bones but I loved this show and I'm sad there were only 13 episodes**_

_**Good reading !**_

* * *

**Chapter 10 : Sleep on**

She had never seen him like that. Never. She had been a good girl, though. She had done what she knew he expected her to. She had washed herself, got dressed like a big girl. She had cleaned the dishes, she had swept the floor. The rest of the day, she had remained quiet, curled up on the couch, dreaming. Could he possibly know about what she had dreamt of?

No, of course he couldn't.

"Go downstairs! Now!"

She obeyed immediately—but not quickly enough, obviously, for he grabbed her arm firmly and rushed her to the door of the cellar.

"And don't you make a single noise!"

She slid down the stairs, threw herself on her bed and burst into tears. She buried her head in the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of her sobs. This was no good. No good. She had never seen him like this before. Not like this. Never. She had the feeling that it was not about her. She hadn't done anything wrong. He wasn't mad at her. Something had happened during the day. Something bad. Something she couldn't make better by begging for his forgiveness and promising to behave better. She didn't know what. She didn't know how bad it was. It had to be really bad.

* * *

Booth leaned on one of the desks and rubbed his forehead. The hurly-burly which reigned in the police station was beginning to make his head ache seriously. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and checked for messages. Nothing. He knew that he would have felt the item vibrating, anyway. Still, he couldn't help checking.

Usually, she called as soon as she had the elements of the case. And usually, she wasn't that long. It was almost eight in the evening and his phone remained desperately silent. There was little flesh on the remains, allowing Angela to work quickly on the identification. What the hell were the squints doing?

"Agent Booth?"

He raised his head and realised that he hadn't heard the Sheriff approach him. "Yes?"

"We're all going to grab a bite to eat. You hungry?"

Booth took a few seconds to figure out how he could answer that he wasn't hungry without sounding impolite. And he was about to resign himself to accept when his cell phone, as if having heard his prayers at last, decided to ring.

"It's my partner, she must have found something out," he apologised. "I'm not really hungry, anyway. Thanks for the offer."

He forced a smile before answering the phone.

"Booth."

Jeez. Was his voice slightly shaky?

"_I have identification for both bodies. You have a paper and a pen?"_

Same old Bones. Always straight to the point. He realised that he had been expecting something else—a softer tone, a greeting phrase just for him. How stupid.

"_Booth ?"_

"Uh… Yeah, wait… Pen… And paper… Okay, I'm listening."

"_The first __one is Faith Lambert, six years old when she disappeared in February 2003. Hodgins estimated death to have occurred about two years ago."_

"Where was she from?"

"_Harrisonburg, Virginia."_

"And where did she disappear?"

"_Her mother drove her to her dance class__ on a Friday afternoon, and when she came to pick up her up one hour later, she was gone. Witnesses said they saw her jump in a car. Nothing really precise."_

"Okay."

"_There's something else. Remember this case we investigated last year, about this 10-year-old girl beauty pageant star?"_

"Brianna Swanson?"

"_Yeah. Remember how hard it was to ID h__er because of her dyed hair? It has been the same for Faith Lambert. We found some hairs on the skull, and we presumed that she was blond. But as Angela's sketch didn't get any hits from the Missing Children database, Cam ran DNA on the hairs, and guess what? The roots confirmed brown hair."_

"So… You're telling me that her hair was dyed after she had been abducted?"

"_I think__ so."_

"What about the third body?"

"_Rebecca Hansenn. Her case is different from the others. She disappeared in April 1986, in Florida. She was six. The state of growth of her skeleton as we found it indicates that she was eight to ten years old when she died."_

"You're telling me that this body has been buried there for twenty years?"

"_Yep."_

"What else can you tell me that could link the three bodies, besides the location where they were found?"

"_Well, here's the thing. Until now, we found nothing proving that it's the same killer. But we found nothing proving the contrary, either. Rebecca and Sarah were blond. Faith's hair was dyed. All of them have been sexually abused. Both Sarah and Faith died of suffocation. It has yet to be confirmed for Rebecca. I'm working on it."_

"Go home Bones. It's sad, but this little girl, she won't be less dead tomorrow. How's your father?"

"_He—H__e's not doing too badly. How's it going on your side?"_

"The Bureau's run location checks for registered pedophiles in the area. I'll do some interviews tomorrow."

"_How many?"_

"Six guys."

"_Can you send me their files?__ I'd like to take a look at them."_

"Sure."

He felt her hesitating.

"_I'm sorry you have to be alone for this."_

Finally, he had had it, his phrase just for him.

"Thanks, I— It's okay Bones."

Since when had these silences on the phone become a habit?

"_Booth… According to the elements we have, I think… I think he has anoth__er girl. I'll have Angela work on it tomorrow, and…"_

"Bones. Go back home and get some sleep."

"_Yeah. Talk to you tomorrow."_

"Bye."

Bye. That was so not what he wanted to tell her. No. That was very far from what he meant.

* * *

Chloe jumped when she heard the door being opened. She had fallen half-asleep. She was bothered for her eyes had to be puffy. She hadn't expected him to come back. She had expected him to be upset. But he hadn't pushed the door violently. And he hadn't run down the stairs.

She shifted to lie on her side and looked at him. He didn't seem angry anymore. He was carrying a tray with her meal on it. She hadn't even realised that she hadn't had her dinner. He put the tray down on the small table near her bed. She followed his gestures, studied his expressions. No, he didn't seem angry anymore.

He sat on the bed and ran his fingers through her hair. There was something different about him. Some kind of hesitation, of sadness, that she had never seen before.

"From now on, you're not leaving this room, you understand me?"

She had been right—his voice wasn't rude anymore. It was weak, filled with fear. It felt weird to her. She had never heard him talk like this.

"Yes, I understand, Sam," she whispered. It was stupid, but she felt some kind of irrepressible urge to reassure him.

She heard him sigh. He never sighed. She watched him stand up. She looked him in the eyes when he stared at her.

"Good night, sweetheart."

She thought that he was going to leave but he opened his mouth. Nothing came out, though. He was about to turn on his heels when he said it eventually. It had been a murmur, so she couldn't be sure. But she would have sworn that he had added, "Good night Chloe." And she would have sworn that it rang like a farewell.

* * *

Booth was exhausted but he couldn't sleep. It was surprising, sometimes, how body and mind could be in such an opposite state. Although his body aimed to rest, his mind wouldn't let him. He wondered if she had gone home. He wondered what she was doing; if she was sleeping. He believed that she wasn't. He imagined her leaned over the examination table, studying the remains doggedly. He had always liked the look of concentration painted across her features when she did so. Sometimes, when she raised her head and realised that he was looking at her, she gave him a smile. And these smiles, particularly, were priceless to him. But as long as she was drawn in her examination of bones, nothing else existed in the room. And he knew this feeling very well, for it was the same with her when she was around.

* * *

There had to be something. Something that she could sense, but that she wasn't able understand yet. In her dark and silent office, her desk light the only source of light, she had been looking for it for the past hours, staying unreasonably late, trying to get something out of the elements she had. Her eyes felt dry and they stung, for having been staring at the screen for too long—staring at the pictures, staring at the bones, staring at the facts.

She knew that it was the same killer, and she knew that he had another girl. Now she had to prove it. It was new for her. It felt as if the order of things had somehow been inverted. Believe, then prove. Yet she didn't have the feeling that she was jumping to conclusions. It had to be what Booth called his 'gut feeling'. Maybe was she able to feel it, too. Or maybe she was completely mistaken and headed in the wrong direction. But as, surprisingly, nothing pushed her to go back, she kept going this way.

When the screen suddenly became blurred, she forced her eyes to adjust her vision. It seemed that sleep was trying to get the upper hand on her. She rubbed her eyes before glancing at the clock. 3:02 am. Had she fallen asleep for a moment? She hadn't slept much in the past few days. But it wasn't time to leave the lab yet.

She let out a muffled cry when a slight noise caused her to startle. "There's nobody in there, dummy," she mumbled for herself. In spite of this, something pushed her to sit up and walk out of her office, slowly. It occurred to her that she had no baseball bat in here, and immediately called herself an idiot. The place was a secured area and there were security agents guarding it day and night.

The quiet lab was only illuminated by the cold, pale light of the computer screens. Nobody seemed to be still working in this building besides her. Not surprising, according to the time. She sighed, annoyed by her own stupidity, and decided that splashing water on her face would help her stay awake if she wasn't going back home yet.

Making her way through the lab, she realised that her pace was subconsciously quiet. She laughed at herself. There was no one else in here, anyway. Why would anyone be bothered by the sound of her heels? When she reached the restrooms, she hesitated before the door, with the inexplicable sensation that somebody was in there. Sleep deprivation really turned her into a sissy. She pushed against the door, shaking her head slightly. And she froze when she saw her, turning her back to her but looking at her through the mirror.

"Mom…"

"Hey, honey."

"W—what are you doing here?"

She knew it was a delusion, yet it didn't feel too weird to talk to her.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"I—I'm working."

"I've got an answer for you."

"About the case?"

She was aware it was a dream, yet she kept asking questions.

"Yes."

Brennan unhanded the door, which closed with a loud bang, and stepped closer to her mother. She felt the urge to touch her, make sure she was real. But something held her back.

"I'm listening, Mom."

Ruth Keenan smiled this tender smile of hers, the same that had made Brennan's eyes glow with tears when she had watched the video.

"Six suspects have already been apprehended. They will be interviewed tomorrow. But you don't think the killer is among them."

"I don't know. I'm not a profiler. Booth is the mind-reader, not me."

"Yet this is the reason why you're staying here instead of getting the sleep you need. Come on, Tempe. Think. Paint the picture. What kind of man are you looking for?"

"He likes blonde girls."

"What else?"

"Mom, these girls were abused sexually for months, then choked and buried in a forest. What kind of man do you think we're looking for?"

"Why would a little girl open up to a stranger when her parents forbid her to do so?"

"Because it's not a stranger."

"Yes."

"Are you telling me that all these girls knew that man?"

"It's a possibility."

"Sorry, I—I don't buy that."

"Then why else did Sarah come to this man? Why did Faith jump in his car?"

"Because—Because they trusted him."

Again, Ruth Keenan smiled her approbation.

"I love you, Temperance."

Brennan woke with a start and sat up straight, glancing around as if she was surprised to be there. She knew she hadn't left her office, yet the dream left a strange feeling inside of her. She had never believed in precognition or dreams having a meaning, but she knew one thing: she had to see these guys to be sure.

* * *

First, he thought that it was happening in his dream—an annoying dream. But after the third ringing, completely awoken, he had to accept that somebody was actually calling him at—what time was it, by the way? God damn it, almost four in the morning.

"Booth," he grumbled, realising that he hadn't paid attention to the caller's ID.

"_Am I waking you?"_

He couldn't hold a groan of annoyance. "Jeez Bones, of course you're waking me… It's four in the morning, wh— Wait, did something happen?"

"_You're talking about my father?"_

"For example."

"_No. Last time I saw him, he was doing well."_

He closed his eyes, reassured. "So why are you calling me now?" he moaned in complaint.

"_I think I've got something."_

Closing his eyes proved to be a bad idea, after all.

"_Booth, you still there?"_

"Hmmm…"

"_When will you__ interview the suspects?"_

"Uh… Sometime in the morning, why?"

"_I'll be there. I have to be there."_

"What? But, Bones, y—"

He couldn't believe it. She had hung up on him. What the hell— Oh, but he was too sleepy to think or feel annoyed. He let his arm drop on the bed, his hand still holding the cell phone, and fell asleep again almost immediately. Tomorrow is another day.

* * *

_**A/N :**__** Thanks for reading me, and thanks more to those who always leave me kind reviews, it's greatly appreciated!**_


	11. Open your eyes

_**A/N : Aw, Christmas time... The best time of the year, isn't it:) In case you don't know, Baby in a Bough will air on February the 22nd, only. Actually, I think it's good news. It shows that Fox is expecting an end to this strike in early 2008, and gives the chance for new episodes to be written and shot, so that we'll have a complete season... If it's the case, I don't mind waiting. If not, I... no, you don't wanna know lol Anyway, what will we do until February? We'll write fanfic, read fanfic, watch old episodes... Wait patiently...**_

_**Good reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter 11 : Open your eyes**

Chloe fixed her gaze on the ceiling until her eyes felt dry, obliging her to blink. Thirteen seconds. Not bad. It was a game she sometimes played, when she had nothing more interesting to do. She hadn't been able to sleep during the entire night. There was this strange feeling in her stomach. Dread and hope at the same time, even if she wouldn't have named it like this. And there was the noise which he made upstairs. She knew that something was going to happen. She just didn't know what, and it terrified her. He was pacing, up and down. He was opening the cupboards, closing them, and doing it again. Did he intend to leave for a long trip? Would he bring her with him?

She shifted to lie on her side and curled up, her thumb in her mouth. She didn't hold back the burning tears that shot to her eyes. She didn't have the strength to, this time. She let out a sob. And another one.

If he wouldn't take her with him, what would become of her?

* * *

Brennan turned the wheel to follow the ramp and left the highway. She had been driving for one hour now, struggling to keep her eyes open. She knew how dangerous it was to drive when suffering of sleep deprivation. Lower concentration, blurring of peripheral vision. She knew all that, but she had to keep going.

There was a fourth girl, and she was alive. Or at least, she thought so. She hoped so. She had to.

She had to find her—_they_ had to. The race against time had begun. Of course, they had to find the killer, too. But the whole punishing system, moral values and God's judgment, Heaven and Hell, that was Booth's specialism, not hers. She wanted him caught, but more than this, she wanted the girl alive. Not some other set of remains she'd have to study.

She grabbed the thermos bottle she had filled with coffee and swallowed more of the still hot liquid. There was a little girl, somewhere, lost and scared, missing her mom and dad. And she herself knew what it was like to miss your parents. That's why she had to keep going, clinging to a thin but realistic hope.

Her gaze travelled to the side of the road. She saw her, leaned against a tree, smiling and waving at her. Or she thought she did. At this speed, it had been more of a flash.

The horn of a driver coming from the other way warned her that she had been about to cross the middle line. She startled and swerved, avoiding hitting another car by a hair's breadth. She rested her head against the headrest, sighing in relief, and turned up the volume of the radio. She took a deep breath and tugged her hair behind her ears. If she began to have delusions, it was no good.

Thirty minutes to go, Temperance. Hold on.

* * *

Booth groaned as the strident ringing of the alarm clock of his cell phone pulled him out of a dreamless sleep. Jeez, 6 am. He had never been an early riser. He closed his eyes again, his hands clinging to the sheets, before deciding that it was not reasonable for he would probably fall asleep again. So he ordered his eyelids to open and huffed, rejecting the sheets reluctantly and forcing himself to sit straight.

More than the early hour, the day to come did but make him want to hide under the covers. The kind of guys whom he was going to deal with—he dreaded these interviews in advance. He knew that he would have to restrain himself, remain objective and stay calm all day, even if he would be willing to squeeze their little pin heads off. If there was a scale of bad, these people were at the top of his one.

As he was yawning loudly, a thought startled him. Had Bones actually called during the night? He had the vague memory of her saying that she had found something and was going to come, but at the moment, it seemed more like a dream. The more he thought about it, the more it confused him. There was only one way to be sure. He grabbed his phone and checked the logs. And indeed, Bones had called—at four in the morning. No wonder he had a hard time retrieving the memory. He let the cell phone drop on the bed and hid his face in his hands.

Great.

With that, he'd have to deal with his partner being around. His partner, this same woman he had probably messed up everything with; the one he hadn't been able to hold himself from kissing although he knew it was a huge mistake; the one he tried desperately to stop thinking of; the one he couldn't be with anymore without feeling distracted, the one he would now have to keep working with in an awkward and tensed atmosphere.

Wonderful.

And he felt even more stupid when he realised that he couldn't even remember what she had found that made her necessary here. He would look like a fool again.

A perfect day in the offing.

* * *

Chloe took a deep breath. Her breath was still slightly shaky with dying-out sobs. Her eyes were burning painfully for having cried too much and her head ached like hell. It made her want to cry more but she knew that it would make the pain but lessen. She wiped the moisture from her face with the sheet and stretched her arm to grab a tissue. Blowing her nose made blood pound even harder against her temples. She crumpled the tissue and let it drop down on the floor. She never did that.

She rolled on her back, thinking guiltily of the tissue lying on the ground, and sniffed. Something told her that she didn't have to pick it up.

* * *

Booth was glad that he had got up early. He was glad that he had arrived before her at the police station, and he was glad that he was able to see the door from where he stood. However, despite his firm resolution to act as usual, when she entered, he forgot how to breathe.

"Ah, I think that your partner's just arrived," the Sheriff stated.

He winced when he made out the dark circles under her eyes, which confirmed his fear that she hadn't slept enough, and felt himself shivering when he couldn't help thinking that she could have had an accident. But when she took sight of him, she gave him a smile which enlightened her features and made his heart pound faster in his chest.

"While you're briefing her, I'm gonna make a phone call. Choppers will be ready for when you're done with the suspects, in case you still need them."

Booth forced himself to turn his concentration back to the man and the case, at least for a couple of seconds. "Yeah… Thank you."

He tried not to stare at her as she was approaching him, but it was hard not to note how her light shirt hugged her body. It felt strange to think that the last time he had seen her, he had kissed her. And that she had kissed him back. The mere thought made his chest about to explode.

"I thought I'd arrive before you," she said teasingly.

He realised that he had been fixing his gaze on her lips. He raised his gaze to look at her in the eyes.

"You did not sleep," he scolded her.

She stared at him, her hands on her hips, and he maintained her gaze, until she suddenly let her arms drop and turned her eyes away. Jeez, he really had to stop looking at her like that or he'd end up scaring her.

"I'm fine, Booth," she said firmly, her gaze travelling back to him. It was her I-can-take-care-of-myself look. And he knew how dangerous it was to contradict her, in these moments.

"So… You didn't actually tell me why you insisted on being here."

Seeing her embarrassment and hesitation, he immediately regretted his words.

"I—I mean, I—that's not what I mean, what I mean is that I'm happy that you're here, you know, but I—" He sighed, annoyed by his own stammering.

"I studied the files closely and I think that I can help."

Once again, he kept himself from telling her that she would have rather been taking some rest. On the other hand, another part of him, the selfish one, was glad that she had travelled back to him.

"Do you trust me?"

Her question startled him. "You're my partner. Of course I trust you."

As a wonderful smile curved the line of her mouth, it felt to him like they were the only ones in the busy and noisy police station.

"Then I think that—that we should start with this one, then this one, and then…"

Usually, he would have protested. This was his job, his field. But at the moment, all that he could let out was a mere "Okay".

* * *

Ever since she had entered the police station, the noise that reigned in there had been ringing in her head. She did her best not to let sleep deprivation show on her face. She hadn't missed Booth's worried look, but somehow he had decided not to annoy her with his alpha-male protective recommendations. She felt startled and taken by surprise when he asked her why she had insisted on being here. Actually, she hadn't thought of what to tell him exactly—stupid, but true. Should she talk about her dream? Wouldn't he laugh at her?

She was about to answer when he opened his mouth, letting out a confused stammer. Aw, he thought that she had misunderstood his words. His embarrassment made her smile inwardly.

"Do you trust me?"

He seemed surprised by the question.

"You're my partner. Of course I trust you."

The way he had said these words and the softness of his gaze made her heart melt. How could a simple look of him make her feel so exposed and weak? During a couple of seconds, it seemed to her that they were the only ones in there; that she could just throw herself in his arms, show him what he meant to her, tell him what this kiss had meant to her, make it happen again. And for a couple of seconds, it felt right that her heart was beating way too fast.

But they were not alone. And a stronger part of her wouldn't let her do that. When she enumerated the order she thought the suspects had to be interviewed, he didn't even protest. It looked like, at this moment, he would say yes to all that she'd say. And this sudden change of character scared her.

* * *

First suspect. Booth felt thankful to have Bones at his side. It felt easier when she was there. Second suspect. Each time he felt the overwhelming urge to punch the guy in the face, a mere look at her calmed him down. Third one. She was surprisingly quiet and observed the guy in a manner he had never seen her doing. Fourth suspect. He couldn't help finding her behaviour a little odd.

"There's another girl."

Booth realised that he had been staring at the guy without actually looking at him. He frowned, wondering if he had heard well. "What?"

"There's another girl."

This time, Booth bothered to observe the man. In his forties, dark, dirty hair glued to his skull, piercing black eyes—typical pervert.

"Is this a confession?"

The man rested his back against the back of his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest with a satisfied smirk. Okay. Obviously the kind of sicko who's proud of what he's done; curious for a sex offender, but possible. It made him think of Howard Epps. The mere idea made him sick.

"What do you think?"

Booth repressed a groan. This man didn't seem like the one they were looking for; he looked more like the kind of guy who's trying to get attention. However, they couldn't just ignore his confession.

"I'm the one asking the questions here, Stuart," Booth said calmly but firmly. He threw a sideways glance at Brennan, who remained quiet, seeming concentrated on studying the man.

"If you don't believe me, I can lead you to her."

"Where is she, Stuart?"

"In the forest."

"Where, exactly?"

"I won't tell you that. I'll lead you to her."

"Who is she?"

"I'll say nothing until we get there. We'll need the choppers."

Obviously, the policemen hadn't been discrete enough. Booth was about to let out a sigh of frustration when Brennan sat up suddenly. He threw her his 'what-the-hell-are-you-doing' look and she answered with her 'follow-me-outside' one.

"It's not him, Booth," she stated after he had closed the door.

"We're not finished with him."

"We are. It's not him."

"How can you be so positive? He confessed, after all."

"You know that he's playing with us. He's gaining time, trying to get our attention."

"Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. We can't be one hundred per cent sure about it without further—"

"We have to skip to the other one, Booth," she cut him off. "We don't have time."

"I'm sorry, but we have no other choice but checking if what he says is true."

"Open your eyes, Booth! This is a huge waste of time! There may be a little girl somewhere, lost and scared. It's our job to find her."

"It's our job to check if this man is telling the truth or not!"

"Okay, fine. I'm not coming then."

"I need you, Bones! There might be some other bodies to identify out there."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest, eyeing him with cold anger. "All right. You're the FBI agent after all."

The last look she threw him before walking past him chilled him. After some steps, she stopped, and he thought that she would be turning around, but she didn't.

"You said you trusted me," she mumbled in a barely audible voice before walking away, leaving him stunned, feeling guilty, and wondering how the hell he'd be able to make this right.

* * *

Chloe awoke with a start, and sat straight in her bed, disoriented. She had fallen asleep without realising it. The thought crossed her mind that in any case, it had to be impossible to realise that you've fallen asleep. But it wasn't what bothered her at the moment. A door had been slammed—she was almost certain it was the main door, for she knew the origin of every little noise of the house perfectly, by now. The entrance door had been slammed, waking her, and now she heard nothing anymore.

She waited, her eyes wide open as if she could perceive the silence in the dark. She waited, expecting to hear a single little noise—hoping to. She waited for what seemed an eternity. But nothing happened.

* * *

_**A/N : A huge thank to the wonderful reviewers who bother leaving me their impressions. I hope that everything is clear for you, if anything confuses you, please tell me. See you soon for next chapter, hopefully it'll be ready before Christmas but just in case: Merry Christmas to you all! **_


	12. Betrayed

_**A/N : Merry Christmas to you all! I'm happy I'm able to post this today. **_

* * *

**Chapter 12 - Betrayed**

Chloe got out of her bed and slowly walked to the stairs. She climbed them, step by step—silently, out of habit, just in case. When she reached the top, she flattened her hands and her right ear to the door. She stayed still in this position during a long moment, but heard nothing. No. He was gone. She tried to turn the handle, but found the door locked. Of course.

She sat down on the stairs for the lead weight in her stomach was too heavy now, and let flow the few tears that slid down her cheeks. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and began biting her nails nervously. He was gone. Not as he usually did, not for a few hours. He was gone, gone for good, leaving her there, in the dark, starving, and cold, and scared. He had never left her starving. But hunger wasn't what bothered her at the moment. She didn't think about it much, actually. The dark, either, wasn't the reason why she was terrified. She had got used to it. And if she was too cold, she could snuggle under the sheets of her bed. But she didn't.

The truth was, after so much time spent with him, after doing her best to be a good girl, to remain quiet, never to complain, never whine in front of him, to try to guess his expectations and fulfill them, she realised that the mere thought of him being gone for good made her feel cruelly lost, abandoned. Betrayed. The mere thought that she could never see him again created some kind of emptiness in her. A baffling, painful emptiness--something she had never thought was possible to experience.

A part of her thought that he'd come back and that everything would return to normal. Another part dreaded that she would die here, forgotten, abandoned.

Chloe stood up slowly and climbed down the steps, one by one. After the last step, she turned around, raised her chin to look up and stared at the door expectantly. Eventually, she walked to the bed and slid under the covers, seeking warmth. And, with her thumb in her mouth, she closed her eyes. She'd rather not stay behind the door. If somebody smashed it, somebody who'd get her out of here, she'd rather not be behind the door.

* * *

She was a fool for thinking that he would have listened to her. Of course, he hadn't. He was the FBI agent. She was just the forensic anthropologist, the scientist, the—the squint. How the hell could she have thought that he'd have taken advice from her about this matter?

She leaned her bottom on the edge of a desk and rubbed a hand over her face. What was happening to her? She wasn't usually this emotional. Booth stepped out of the interrogation room, holding the cuffed guy's arm firmly. He was clearly trying to make eye contact with her, but she avoided his gaze and sat up before they walked past her. This sudden move caused her head to spin and her vision darkened during a couple of seconds, but she ignored it. Not the moment.

She expected the fresh air outside to invigorate her, but despite the early time, a sultry breeze had already begun to blow. The voices around her were ringing in her head, making no sense. She covered her forehead with her hand. Her head was beginning to ache. It felt as if a clamp was slowly tightening around it.

"—tor Brennan?"

She straightened her back and shoulders at hearing her name. "Yes?"

She tried to fixate her eyes on her interlocutor, a young cop with short red hair, instead of her partner standing in the background with the suspect.

"We're leaving soon. The problem is, we're gonna need two choppers and one of our pilots is sick. The Sheriff called one of his old friends from the Navy, he's gonna be here soon."

"All right," she said, forcing a smile.

She was trying hard to stay focused, when all she wanted was for him to stop talking. Every single noise, every single sputter hammered painfully in her head. She kept smiling, God only knew how. Unfortunately, the young man seemed to be thrilled by the case and his first meeting with an actual forensic anthropologist. Damnit, he was a real windbag. She managed to answer his questions, mostly speaking out of habit, even if it seemed to her that it was another person talking.

When her cell phone rang, it made her jump but gave her a good excuse to isolate herself from the group.

"Hey, Angela," she answered after a quick glance at the screen.

_"Sweetie, you're impossible,"_ her friend scolded her.

"Why? What did I do?" she asked, doing her best to hide the exhaustion in her voice.

_"You went back to Virginia." _

"You got my note then."

_"Of course I did,"_ she sighed. _"Anyway, I did some research on that thing you asked me about. There's a girl who matches what we're looking for. Chloe Brighton, age five, disappeared in November from Powhatan, Virginia, after school was out. I'll send you a picture on your cell phone. According to the date, the place, the circumstances, it could be her--or I could be completely mistaken." _

"Thank you, anyway."

_"Did you even sleep?" _

"Of course I did," she lied.

_"We'll talk later." _

"Be well."

_"Be careful, Brenn. And I know it when you're lying, sweetie." _

Angela hung up, saving her friend from having to explain herself. They'd talk about this again, there was no doubt. Angela wasn't finished with her. The phone gave a single ring, indicating that she had received a message. She opened it and stared at the picture of the blond, lovely girl. She was about to go show it to her partner when the young cop appeared, flashing her an excited grin. "We're leaving soon."

She gave him a mere nod and let him drag her to the Sheriff. The latter was accompanied by a man who, according the equipment that he was wearing, was the second helicopter pilot. According to the way they were acting around each other, they seemed like two old friends meeting again after a long time apart.

"—that very often indeed."

The general laughter that gained the people around her startled her. Although she had no idea what it was all about, she forced herself to laugh with them. She assumed that it had something to do with the two men looking very much like each other—early fifties, short hair, pepper-and-salt beard.

"—better go now."

"Yeah, time is precious."

"Agent Booth, if you and your partner like, you can go in chopper number one with the suspect, while I—"

Brennan buried her phone in the pocket of her jeans. Never mind, she wouldn't show him the photo. He'd probably think and say that she was wrong about it, anyway. "No, it's all right," she cut him off. "I'll go with you and…" What was his name again? Something ending with 'man'. "I'll go with you two."

She couldn't resist a quick glance at her partner to see the effect it had on him. He looked hurt and shot her a sheepish look, but she averted her eyes before she could have any remorse and quickened her pace to catch up with her group. Just before he opened the door of the chopper, the pilot came closer to her and turned to her.

"Lieberman."

"What?"

"It's my name," he specified with a kind smile.

She answered with a nod and a smile which she hoped didn't look forced, before climbing in the back of the chopper. While the Sheriff was settling himself next to his friend in the front seat, Brennan was annoyed to see the talkative cop get seated beside her, wearing a large grin. When the pilot started the engine, she thought that her head was going to explode. And she hoped for the journey to be as short as possible.

* * *

Booth pushed Stuart Denton into the chopper, gaining himself a groan from the man.

"I've been honest with you, the least you can do is treat me as a human being, not cattle!" Denton complained.

"Honest, yeah—that's what we're going to figure out," Booth sighed, climbing in the helicopter. He cuffed the man to a rod next to his seat and sat down next to him. He put his helmet on his head and fastened his seatbelt. Then, he leaned his elbow on the windowsill and rested his head on his fist, waiting for the pilot to put the chopper in motion.

He had the annoying feeling that he had made a big mistake with Denton. If he was lying, they would have lost a lot of time. What's more, Bones was likely to blame him a hell more. He wished that he had time to talk it out with her; he couldn't bear knowing that she currently hated him.

He glared at the man seated beside him. He was giving directions to the pilot. East during three miles, then North-North East for about eight miles—his instructions seemed quite precise, he didn't seem to hesitate. However, the more he observed him, the stronger he thought that he had been had by the bastard. Denton rested his back against his seat. He turned his head to Booth and their gazes met. Booth stared into his dark eyes, probing them. He looked relaxed, like a child who was excited to show some wonder to his parents.

"You'd better not be fooling us, Stuart," he warned him with a cold voice. "You'd better not."

And before he averted his gaze to turn it towards the window, he was almost sure of having seen his eyes fill with some kind of apprehension.

Stuart Denton was jubilant. For the first time in his life, he felt like an important person. For the first time in his life, people paid attention to him. For the first time in his life, people were listening to him avidly. For the first time in his life, he was able to give instructions, and people followed them. For the first time in his life, an important matter depended on him. And for the first time in his life, he was in control.

* * *

Stuart Denton didn't feel like a nobody anymore, and it felt better than anything, no matter what would happen next.

He gave the pilot a random direction, doing his best to sound precise and confident. One moment or another, they would fly over something looking like a house. Then, he sank back in his seat, satisfied with himself. He was even able to forget that he was cuffed. He had been doing well until then, so there was no reason for this to change.

He didn't like this Agent Booth, though. He didn't like the way he treated him, didn't like the way he talked to him, and didn't like the way he stared at him, as if wanting to enter his mind. He doubted him. He was pretty sure it was because of his partner, this doctor something who had attended his interrogation. The guy had had an argument with her because of him, and now it was clear that he was wondering if she wasn't right. Obviously, he was annoyed because he wanted to jump her and today's event had made it way more difficult. Ah, women. They bring you nothing but problems and frustration. He himself had given up on them a long time ago.

He let out a contented sigh. It was his first time, flying in a chopper. A free flight. Maybe he'd go to prison for having lied, but the term he was liable for was definitely worth it.

* * *

Brennan gazed out the window, pretending to be admiring the green landscape below them. It wasn't her first time in a chopper—nothing to be impressed by. She only wanted her neighbour to leave her alone. In the front seats, the Sheriff and his friend pilot were chatting cheerfully. She closed her eyes for a moment. The noise produced by the engine and their laughs were a torture to her painful head. She wished that it could stop. She wished for silence—silence and rest. This time, she was aware of having clearly gone over her boundaries. But she had to hold on. The life of a little girl was at stake. She had to hold on. To hold on. God, it felt so good to have her eyes closed. If she could just take a nap—just a few minutes…

"This house?"

"Obviously."

"Is there any place nearby to land?"

The voices were a mere buzz in her head. A part of her was trying to convince herself that it wasn't important, that it made no sense. Another part or her warned her that she was falling asleep, but she wouldn't listen to this one.

"Wait… Isn't it your house? What the hell…? Sam, what are you doing? Sam?"

"I don't know, something's wrong with the rotor."

"No, look at the—"

"I'm telling you there's a problem with the rotor!"

Brennan startled, completely awoken, as everybody was freaking out around her. "What's happening?" she asked, gained by panic herself.

The young cop beside her was ashen-faced, and she would have sworn that he was about to vomit.

"Rescue 1, mechanical failure, mechanical failure tail rotor. Mayday, mayday!"

She felt the chopper lose height and she clung to her seat when the chopper suddenly nosedived. The painful sensation in her stomach took her breath away and kept her from screaming. The green landscape became trees, and the trees got closer. People always talk about your life passing in your mind before you die—what you've done, what you wish you'd have done, the faces of the ones you love. Bullshit. You never have the time to.

* * *

"Rescue 2 is down, Rescue 2 is down."

The words rang like the death knell in Booth's ears. It was true and terrifying. Rescue 2 was down. Booth unfastened his seatbelt and sat up as much as he could, trying to get a better view of the chopper below. Unfortunately, he could see nothing but smoke spiralling up from the trees.

"Land!" he cried, losing the struggle against himself to try and stay calm.

"There's no clearing here," the pilot said bleakly.

"Find one!"

The bastard next to him seemed stunned by silence. He could do what he wanted, anyway. He could say what he wanted. He didn't care about him anymore. His hands clinging to the sides of the seat in front of him, his nails digging into the foam, Booth couldn't get his eyes off the window. Bones was down there, among the smoke. She was injured, maybe even—no, that couldn't be. But she needed his help. She needed him, now. She needed him quickly.

Unfortunately, he wasn't there with her. He didn't even have the command. He could do nothing for now. Nothing but wait for the pilot to land the damn chopper. The thought occurred to him that he'd take the command by force. But to do what? Crash this one, too?

That's why, eventually, he forced himself to sit back, forced himself to close his eyes, and obliged himself to breathe, for his breath… he was going to need it.

* * *

Chloe froze, pricking up her ears. She knew this noise. It was like a plane, though not really a plane. Her father had taught her the name of it, but she couldn't remember it. The noise drew closer, and soon she had the feeling that it was flying over the house. Then, it came again. Or maybe it was another one. And there was another noise, a different one. She tightened her arms around her legs and hid her face between her knees. She didn't know what was happening outside. She didn't know if it had something to do with Sam, or her. She didn't know if it was good.

She repressed a shiver. She feared it was not.

* * *

_**A/N : I wish you all a good time with your family, and don't eat too much or you'll regret it afterwards! I promise that chapter 13 will come very soon, too, because it has already been written AND beta-ed! Yay, it's a Christmas miracle!!**_


	13. One step after another

_**A/N : First of all, thanks so much for your reviews, I'm glad you enjoyed the suspense, sorry for leaving you with a cliffhanger but you do know that Brennan isn't dead, don't you? Anyway, I decided to post the chapter, but you'll have to be patient while I'll write chapter 14 now...**_

_**Secondly, in order to reply to most of the reviews I received, Sam Lieberman is actually the pilot of the chopper Brennan was in. But some things are gonna get clearer in this chapter.**_

_**To finish, … Well, nothing. Lol. I'm pretty tired actually. But happy. Hum, let's do it again. To finish, I hope you all enjoyed your Christmas as I did.**_

_**Good reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter 13 – One step after another**

It felt as if her wish had been granted. There was no noise anymore. There was not a sound. Only silence. Silence, at last. It felt so good. It should have lasted.

She took a deep breath and immediately regretted it. No, it didn't feel good at all. Her head—her head was even more painful than before, and something slimy glued to the right side of her face. Blood. She didn't have to touch it to know that it was blood. The helicopter had crashed. All right. And she was still alive.

She heard noise. Someone else was conscious and trying to get out. She opened her eyes slowly. She tried to raise her head but it felt too heavy. The Sheriff, on the opposite seat in front of her, seemed still, his head hanging before him. She glanced to her left. The young cop who had annoyed her so much didn't seem conscious, either. It was the pilot who was moving in the chair before her. He had obviously unbuckled his seatbelt. He shifted in his seat, groaning, and felt for a pulse on the Sheriff's neck. He murmured something she wasn't able to understand.

What was he doing? She forced her cloudy mind to focus. Apparently, he was trying to unfasten the Sheriff's seatbelt. She tried to talk, but a moan escaped her mouth instead. The pilot turned his head to look at her. What was his name, again? She couldn't remember. He stared at her for a moment, but said nothing.

"You're alive…"

Sam. His name was Sam, she remembered now. She closed her eyes for what seemed an instant—her eyelids were so heavy. And the following instant, the door was opened and he was hovering above her, pressing the button of her seatbelt and unfastening it.

"C'mon, open your eyes, Sleeping Beauty. I know you're awake."

She moaned when he seized her under the armpits to help her to her feet. She gathered her strength and did her best to make it easy for him to climb out of the device. She managed to draw some steps, leaning most of her weight on him. After some meters, her legs trembled so much that she decided that walking was over. She expected him to help her lay on the ground, but instead, he forced her to stay up.

"No, no no no no. You're gonna have to walk. Because you're coming with me."

And she realised that something was pressed into her back. Something hard and cold. A gun.

* * *

One step after another, he had concocted a story. One lie after another, he had almost begun to believe in it. That he wasn't just a coward, pathetic stalker. That he was able to take the plunge.

But an unexpected event which he hadn't anticipated had occurred. Something that completely disrupted his plans and left him puzzled and confused.

The pilot landed the chopper, and everybody went down, abandoning him there, still cuffed to his seat. It was over. He was no longer the centre of attention.

"Hey!" he cried, trying desperately to attract attention. But nobody heard him. It was the end of his little game. It hadn't lasted as long as he had hoped. He pricked up his ears, but they were too far from him to be able to catch what they were saying. It was annoying not to hear what was going to happen next. It was almost nerve-racking not to know what they would do with him.

"Hey!" he said louder, with no better result.

He huffed and sank back in his seat. He hated having control of the situation no longer.

"I've just called for backup, they'll be there soon," someone said.

"One of us has to stay with Denton until they arrive, then go to the house with him. You know, just in case."

Just in case… Good. He'd have the opportunity to continue his little game, after all.

"Only one? Is it safe?"

"It's not like we have a choice."

"I'll stay with him. You go find your partner."

"Thanks, Logan."

"They are at less than 0.40 miles. Let's go. West, south west."

When Agent Logan came towards him with a despising look stretched across his face, Denton winced.

"You lied, didn't you, Stuart? The house we saw isn't actually yours."

"I told the truth."

"I don't believe that for a second."

Denton let out a groan of pain. He hadn't seen the blow coming. "You—you're not allowed to do that!" he squealed indignantly, his hand protectively placed against the side of his face.

"Because of you, four people might be dead. I know you lied, you son of a bitch, I read your file!"

Denton tried to avoid the second blow but being cuffed to the seat didn't permit him to move enough. "You'll be in trouble for this! They'll notice what you did and you'll be in trouble, believe me!"

The agent leaned closer to him, his face inches to his own. "I'm not sure they'll care, Stuart. I'm not sure they'll care."

And, after a third and last punch in Denton's face, Logan walked away with a disgusted look on his face.

* * *

He just couldn't resign himself. He had thought that he would have been able to. He had been mistaken. He had merely been lying to himself. Thinking that he would never see her again froze his heart; the mere idea that he would never slide his fingers in her silky blond hair tore him apart. Knowing that she wasn't his anymore ripped him up inside.

He kept pushing the woman forward with his gun pressed against her back. She was a burden he wished he had avoided. One step after another, she seemed to be more likely to stumble and fall. He was running out of patience. She didn't walk fast enough. He could have got rid of her, but on the other hand, she was likely to be useful.

He hadn't done all this for nothing. He hadn't simulated a failure, crashed the chopper, managed to stay alive, for nothing. And James. He had been a good buddy, a brave army mate. He had seemed so happy to see him again. Good Sheriff, good husband. He hadn't deserved this. Sam hated to think that he had died for nothing.

That's why he wouldn't leave Chloe there. He couldn't leave without her. Whatever the price, he had to go fetch her.

* * *

Honestly, she didn't know how she was finding the strength to keep moving. The gun in her back, surely, helped. Each step she drew forward, her trembling legs made her stumble and her hands cuffed before her didn't make it easier to remain stable on her feet.

"This is no good," she ventured to say after what seemed to her hours of silence. "You're injured. You need medical attention."

He answered nothing and dug the gun more deeply into her back to force her to quicken her pace. Unfortunately, she couldn't walk faster. She didn't know where he was leading her. She didn't even really think about it. At the moment, her mind and energy were focused on a mere thing: walking. The trees before her progressively became blurrier. She stumbled, her head spinning dangerously, but again, she managed to keep from collapsing. Booth was looking for them. He was looking for her. She clung to this thought and it helped her to hold on. She had to.

"In a couple of hours, the woods will be crowded with people searching for us," she stated, her voice weaker than she would have wanted it to. "Where do you think you can go?"

"Don't worry. I know these woods like the back of my hand," he said calmly. He seemed so composed. His confidence annihilated her own.

Her vision darkened suddenly and her ears began to buzz. A warm sensation washed over her body and she felt herself sliding to the ground. But the ground, she never reached it, for he caught her before she did.

"Oh no, no, no. You don't," he said. She felt the hard and cold barrel against the side of her neck. "You don't want to slow me down now, do you?"

The tone of his voice was weird, unusual.

She drew a step forward. It had sounded as if he was scolding a little girl.

Another step. The investigation, the accident, Lieberman threatening her and forcing her to go on further into the forest, all these elements were confused in her head.

And another one.

And she was walking again. One step after another, she knew one thing for sure: as long as she was walking, she would stay alive.

* * *

They moved on in a weighty silence. They moved on, and each step that they took brought them closer to what they dreaded they would find at the scene of the accident.

"Over there," the pilot said suddenly, pointing his finger to his left, startling Booth out of his thoughts. They both turned left and quickened their pace.

The engine was in a bad condition, and no movement, no sound, announced nothing good. Booth fought his urge to stop and close his eyes to refuse reality. It was one of these moments when every thought or feeling had to be banished. Usually, he knew very well how to do that. But it was Bones, and the mere idea of her in a hospital bed was unbearable to him. He didn't even consider the possibility of her being dead.

He rushed to the side where he knew she had been sitting and froze when he found her chair empty. The others, he didn't even notice them. All that he saw was the empty, stained with blood, backseat.

"Robbie is alive," he heard the man say. "The other one didn't make it." He took his walkie-talkie from his belt, without commenting on the absence of the pilot and one of the passengers. "Robbie Moore is alive. Unconscious, and it seems he's broken a few ribs, but he's fine, he's gonna make it. The chopper hit on the left section, the left nose. Sheriff Vaughan didn't make it. He was passenger in the front seat, he probably died on impact."

Booth glanced around, running his fingers nervously through his short dark hair.

"_Copy that. What about the other ones?"_

"We haven't found them yet. I'll get back to you."

"_Okay."_

"They could have been thrown out but I don't think so," Booth said.

"Why not?" the man asked, turning around the engine to take a better look at the other side.

"The pilot's chair is on the floor but it's still in the cabin and there's some blood on it. My partner was sitting back right and her chair is still intact, and so is the seatbelt. It's intact, and it's unbuckled."

"Right."

"Look… I know her. There's no way she would have left them. She would have tried to contact us with the radio. And it's working, I tested it."

The man huffed, shaking his head. "I don't know what that means but we have to find them. I'll wait here for the rescuers to come. You go look for your partner and we keep in touch by phone. I'll send you backup as soon as I can."

* * *

She wondered how long she had been walking through the forest. She wondered how long it would last. She didn't even know where exactly they were going. A part of her wanted to lie on the ground and close her eyes, whatever would happen. He could shake her all he wanted then, she would not move. He could lift her on his back, she wouldn't protest. He could even shoot her, she wouldn't care. Wrong. She did care.

"Keep talking."

One more step. She would hold on.

"I don't wanna talk."

Another step. She had to, for her father. For Russ. For Angela.

"I said keep talking," he ordered.

Left foot. For Booth.

"I have nothing to say."

Right foot. She imagined that Booth was over there, between those two oak trees, waiting for her.

"Where do you come from?"

Left. About ten steps and she would collapse. But he would be there and he'd catch her.

"Chicago."

About seven steps left and she'd be safe, safe in his arms.

"Is your family still there?"

She felt dizzy again. _Hold on, Temperance. Five steps._

"No. My mother is dead and my father is in jail."

Four.

"Aw. Sounds like a sad story."

_Stop it. You know very well that he's not really there. If you fall, you'll meet nothing but the ground._

"Pretty much, yeah," she whispered.

She stopped, out of breath. Her trembling legs wouldn't carry her anymore.

"What are you doing?" Lieberman said, placing himself in front of her.

As she was looking over his shoulder, she saw something moving in the woods. She closed her eyes for a second, then shook her head. "I—I can't—"

When she opened her eyes again, a little blonde girl was staring at her, half hidden behind a tree trunk. She looked like the girl in the picture, except that she wasn't smiling. She seemed scared, lost. She seemed to be begging for her help.

As Lieberman glanced back, the girl disappeared behind the tree. "What did you see?"

"Nothing."

She held her breath when he dug his gun in her neck. "What did you see?"

"Chloe Brighton."

She saw a spark of panic pass in his eyes. He turned again to look behind him. "What?"

It was now or never. She'd probably not have this opportunity again. Gathering all the strength left in her muscles, she raised her arms over his head, then pulled to strangle him with the chain of the cuffs around his neck. He tried to struggle but she held on and clung to him with all her might. He shot but wasn't able to hit her behind him. She had wrapped her legs around him now. Understanding that he wouldn't get rid of her by merely shaking his body to make her fall, he decided to try another way and moved back suddenly, trying to crush her against a trunk.

Brennan screamed when her back hit the rough trunk but refused to let go of him. Again, he tried to point the gun to her head, but before he could shoot she bit his hand and, with a cry of pain, he dropped it.

"You wasted a bullet," she hissed.

Recovering some kind of control gave her the strength to pull harder. Lieberman began to suffocate, his fingers trying to grip the chain of the cuffs. After some seconds, out of air, he ended up falling, dragging Brennan with him.

She kept holding on. One step after another, she had got back in charge of the situation. One step after another, she had regained the upper hand on him. She was Temperance Brennan. She was not a weak woman, she was not the kind of person who would just lie here and wait for her fate to redeem itself on her. She'd get to her feet, take the gun with her and one step after another, she would find a way to get out of here.

* * *

_**A/N : Please tell me if anything isn't clear in your mind, and I promise that I'll answer you. Hopefully, you'll have chapter 14 before 2008!!**_


	14. On trust

_**A/N : Yay, another chapter! I'm in a writing mood, and fortunately, my beta is on holidays, meaning that she has a lot of time. Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, I'm always happy to read what you think about my story, especially when people give me their favourite quotes. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. I have to admit that for this one, I was helped a lot by this same episode of The Inside that inspired me for Brennan's dream in chapter 10. However, if anyone of you know the show and recognize the episode, forget it because even if I kept some dialogs and events, I merely adapted them to my plot and the characters.**_

_**Good reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter 14 – On trust**

She waited, expecting him to move. She waited, but soon she came to the conclusion that he was unconscious. As uncomfortable as the position of her body was, she wished she could just close her eyes and lie here, waiting for whatever would happen, or whoever would come. But she couldn't. She knew that very well. She had to stand up, and go back. It seemed impossible, but she had to convince herself that it wasn't.

She stretched her arms, managed to pass the cuffs over his head and rolled onto her back. Then, she sat up and, pushing hard on her hands, she managed to get to her feet. She picked the gun off the ground but, thrown off balance by her trembling legs, she clumsily squeezed the trigger. The noise made her jump. She lowered her gaze to the man lying motionlessly on the ground. He looked still unconscious. Even dead, maybe. But she didn't check. It wasn't that important.

Instead, she scanned the area, searching for the little girl, but she was obviously hiding under a tree or a thicket. The shot had to have scared her. Poor girl. She had already been frightened enough.

"Chloe? Chloe Brighton?" Brennan called with a loud but reassuring voice.

"She went that way."

Brennan startled and spun around to find her mother standing behind her, pointing her finger to her right. She closed her eyes. She closed them tightly. She focused on her will to stop seeing things or people that didn't exist, repeated to herself that it wasn't real. But when she opened them again, the delusion was still there, at the same place, in the same position, still pointing her finger in the same direction.

"Leave me alone, you're just an illusion. Leave me."

As illogical as it was to talk to a delusion, she did. Then, she could have chosen the opposite way, just to be cross. But, as stupid as it might seem, she didn't. She followed the exact direction the delusion was pointing at. Why would another one be better than this one, anyway?

"You're never gonna make it out of here without my help, honey."

Brennan shook her head, as if it would help her get rid of the delusion; and she quickened her pace, as if she could leave it behind.

"I said leave me al—"

She wasn't able to finish her sentence, for she stumbled over a root and tumbled down a gentle slope. During her fall, she let go of the gun which dropped on the ground. She stood up immediately, trying to ignore her soaring muscles and persistent hammering in her head. She couldn't permit herself to lose time; she couldn't allow herself to think about every painful part of her body. When she was about to start again, a noise made her turn around.

Chloe had been following her. She had seen her fall; she had picked the gun off the ground. And now she was standing there, pointing it straight at her, her finger on the trigger, ready to shoot if necessary. It felt so strange, this object, made to kill, in the hands of such a young, fragile girl.

Brennan took one step towards her, then another, slowly. The child seemed terrified. Not surprising, after all that she had been through.

"Chloe, it's okay. I'm your friend," she said, trying to sound reassuring and trustful. "I've been looking for you. A lot of people have. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just give me the gun."

"No. You're his friend. I saw you with him."

Brennan raised her hands to show her cuffs. "Because he took me. He put me in these."

Chloe shook her head and didn't lower the gun. "Liar."

"Chloe, I promise you that I—"

"You can't trick me," the little girl interrupted her with a louder voice.

Brennan sighed inwardly, wondering how she could possibly gain the trust of this lost, terrified child. But when all her strength was mobilised to try to stay up, thinking and focusing had almost become impossible. She wanted to just lie here, no matter the hardness of the ground, and to close her eyes for good. She wanted to tell Chloe to shoot her if she thought it was the right thing to do; that she didn't care.

"_You can do it, Temperance," _a gentle voice whispered in her ear. "_Ask her if you can wash your face in that spring."_

"Where is he?" Chloe inquired, glancing around as if expecting Sam to appear from behind a tree at any moment.

"He's gone. I swear," Brennan assured her. "Look, Chloe… Would you mind if I just washed my face over there? You know, sometimes, you just… You feel so much better if you can just wash your face."

The little girl considered her request for a couple of seconds before nodding her agreement.

Brennan managed to thank her with a slight smile. She walked towards the spring and kneeled down. She cupped her hands to fetch some water and she carefully washed the blood off the right side of her face. As she was doing that, she quickly took the earring from her right ear and kept it hidden in her fist.

"You sure he's gone?"

Brennan turned her head towards the little girl. She was still aiming the gun at her, her finger ready to pull the trigger if she ever felt threatened. However, something had changed in her eyes, in the tone of her voice. She was beginning to trust her.

Brennan gave her a nod, as firm as she was able to. "Yeah. I'm sure." While she was leaning on her hands to get to her feet, she discretely left the earring on a rock, just in case somebody would look for her here—hoping that if Booth saw the earring, he'd recognise it as hers. "I'm sure. He won't be bothering us." The mere movement of standing up had left her breathless. Her head was more painful than ever, and her legs were trembling, threatening to give way under her. "If you want, I can show you."

"No!" the little girl squeaked. When she was beginning to regain trust in somebody, the mere mention of her abductor had woken up the terror in her.

"_Tell her it's okay,"_ her mother's voice murmured in her ear.

"It's okay," Brennan said with a gentle voice.

"_Tell her she doesn't have to do anything she doesn't want to."_

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," she repeated absently, too tired to think about what she was doing. She merely wanted to get out of here—to get the both of them, safely, out of here.

"_Let her think she's in charge."_

"You're in charge," she repeated again. "Okay?"

"Okay."

The little girl seemed calmer, now.

"So… What do you wanna do?"

"I need to find… I want… I wanna see…" Chloe stammered, suddenly on the verge of tears.

"You need to find a way out of here," Brennan finished her sentence for her. "You wanna see your parents, right?"

The child merely nodded her head.

"Okay. We can do that. Do you know the way back to his house?"

Chloe, who hadn't lowered the gun yet, nodded again.

"Then, just show me where you wanna go. If you want, I'll walk in front of you. And if I do anything you don't like, you can shoot me."

"Okay," the girl agreed in a small voice.

"Great. Now… Which way?" Her head spun so much that she wondered for how long she'd be able to walk.

Chloe thought before pointing to a path on her right. Brennan gave her a smile and headed in that direction. She walked, watching her step to keep from tumbling over again, trying to convince herself that her legs didn't feel like they couldn't carry her body anymore. She walked, and the idea of questioning the six-years-old's ability to find her way back never came to mind. She walked, focused on the single, usually simple movement of stepping straight and following the path.

* * *

Sam Lieberman slowly regained consciousness. The first thing he noticed was the dirt in his nose and mouth, from which he understood that he was lying on the ground. Then, he realised how painful his throat was. And finally, he remembered why he was lying here. She had managed to strangle him with the chain of her cuffs. That bitch.

He sat up and let his gaze wander over his surroundings. She had taken the gun with her, of course. He wondered how long he had been unconscious. He glanced at his watch. She couldn't be that far ahead of him. He stood up and wiped the dirt off his clothes. He had seen how slowly she moved, threatening to pass out with each step. Even when they had been introduced to each other, he had noticed the bags under her eyes, her vacant look, the way she startled at each sound. He was used to observing people; he had always liked to try to read them. And he could read this woman like an open book. But what he was interested in at the moment was her obvious lack of sleep. She was exhausted, and at this pace, she wouldn't get far. Sure enough, he'd find her lying somewhere on a path. One moment or another, she'd give up or her body would oblige her to. He realised he still stood a chance. It wasn't over yet. He could still win this.

He didn't even have to run. He'd take his time to locate her tracks and he'd hunt her down.

* * *

They had been walking for what seemed to Brennan an eternity. They had been walking in silence, merely following the path. Her pace was unsteady, but she was still holding on. The question was, for how long?

"Are you sure this is the right way?"

"I don't know, they all look the same." The child's voice coming from behind her was trembling, filled with doubts.

"Do you remember where the sun was in the sky when you left?" She tried to be reassuring, but it was hard when she herself was about to break down. It occurred to her that it had been a great mistake to trust a child's sense of direction; that she should have gone with her first idea, which was to go back to the chopper. But she wasn't the one holding the gun. And she didn't actually know the way back to the scene of the accident better than Chloe remembered which way led to the house. They were lost.

She heard Chloe stop walking. "No…" the little girl whined.

Brennan turned around slowly, careful not to scare her, and found her down on her knees, tears sliding down her cheeks and the gun next to her. She moved closer to her and kneeled in front of her. "It's okay. It's gonna be okay."

As exhausted as she was, she still found the strength to place a soothing hand on the child's shoulder.

"What if we don't find the house before the night comes?" Chloe asked, her voice broken by sobs.

"We'd just stop for a little while and rest. Maybe get some sleep."

Chloe's eyes widened in fear. "No, we can't! There are bad things in the woods!"

"We have each other. We'll be fine."

Oh how hard it was to sound believable. She hated to lie. Even to children—especially to children. She had never seen the point. Perhaps she had always wished her parents would have told her and her brother the truth.

"_That's good, Temperance,"_ her mother's voice encouraged her. Oh no. Now this was happening again.

"You promise?"

Brennan hesitated a long moment, staring in the child's wide, clear gaze. She had stopped crying, as if realising that she could rely on a trustworthy adult, now. After all, she was just a child. But the expectancy she could read in her eyes created a knot in Brennan's stomach. She could barely stay up on her feet, she was lost, discouraged, but she was the adult and it was her duty to protect this little girl and make her feel safe.

"_Promise her anything, honey."_

She knew the voice wasn't real, and she wished it could just stop. Yet, she kept doing as it was saying. "I promise."

Chloe reached for the gun and handed it to her. "Do you want this back?"

The way she was holding it now proved how much of a burden it had been to her. Something too heavy for her, or too dangerous— too big a responsibility.

"Only if you wanna give it to me."

She didn't need to be told twice. She placed the gun in Brennan's hand, carefully.

"_Good job, honey."_

She wanted to tell the voice to shut up, but she wasn't alone, so she chose to ignore it.

"You're ready to go?" she asked instead.

Chloe nodded her head.

"Me too," Brennan stated. Another lie. She wasn't totally sure that stopping and sitting had been a very good idea. She wasn't sure she'd be able to get to her feet and walk again, now. Yet, she did it. A little too quickly, though, for everything became blurred and dark before her eyes. "Which… Which way… Which way were we…" she stammered before her legs gave way under her and she collapsed hard onto the ground.

* * *

The first shot. He hadn't been completely sure that he hadn't imagined it. But it had made him prick up his ears and when the second one had rung in the quiet woods, he had known that he wasn't dreaming. Hunting wasn't allowed in this forest. It was a protected area.

He quickened his pace in the direction of the shots, in his head a jumble of scenarios. Two shots, then nothing. Nothing but an eerie silence. Even the birds had stopped singing.

He found more tracks, here and there. He knew they were fresh, for it was summer and it hadn't rained for a long time. He knew perfectly well they could belong to a hiker, too. There were plenty of them around here. But the tracks were going in the right direction, so he kept following them, hoping that they would lead him to her. Hoping that she had been the one shooting.

He cursed when he stepped in a puddle and splashed mud on his clothes. An annoyed glance at the wet legs of his pants told him that it wasn't actually a puddle but a spring. He stepped out of the water, wondering how the hell he could care about being mud-spattered when he didn't know what had become of Bones. He was looking for tracks when something reflecting the sunlight on a rock caught his attention. He moved closer to examine what he was pretty sure was a mere quartz stone. But when he bent down to take a closer look at the object, he realised that it was no stone but a silver earring. Bones' earring, one of her favourite pair.

She had left this for him. Because she knew that he would recognise it. Because she trusted him.

He closed his fist around the small, precious jewel. And he got going again immediately, picturing the smile she would give him when he'd put it back in her ear. It reminded him of how surprised and pleased she had looked when he had given her back the earring she thought she had lost it in New Orleans, almost two years earlier. He obliged himself to concentrate his thoughts on this picture of her, to focus his mind on what she'd say. She'd say that she knew he'd find her; that she knew he'd never give up. That she trusted him. And he'd say that he knew she would hold on; that he knew she'd never give up. That he trusted her.

She had been the one holding the gun. It couldn't be any other way.

* * *

_**A/N : I have an important announcement to make. My lovely beta Catherine (a big hug to you for your help, as usual) and I have just posted the first chapter of our (may I say awesome?) story, Never Say Never. You'll find it on our common account 'C.M. Bones' and I promise you that you'll enjoy this angsty (but isn't always there BB lovin in BB angst, uhm?) beginning, while waiting for me to write chapter 15!**_


	15. Hunt

_**A/N : I wish you all the best for 2008! The holidays are almost over but I hope you all had a wonderful time with you family. Thank you so much for the kind reviews you send me, it encourages me a lot.**_

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**Chapter 15 - Hunt**

"Get up! Get up!" Chloe's panicked voice was so close and at the same time, it felt so far, it sounded so unreal. The child had been shaking her, slightly first, harder now. "Get up… Please, you have to…" She knew she had to. She had promised herself to hold on, to keep moving, until she was sure they were both safe. But it felt so much easier to ignore the voice, to give up. "It's him, it's Sam. He's here."

"No… Not possible…" Brennan mumbled disbelievingly. It felt so much easier to deny it.

"It's him… Please, get up…"

She vaguely heard the child getting to her feet and running away. A sudden wave of fear forced her to regain consciousness completely and open her eyes. Just to be sure. She sat up straight and indeed she saw him, walking towards her with a smirk. Oh God no, it couldn't be. She had left him very far away, unconscious—probably dead. It had to be some kind of delusion again. She shut her eyes, then opened them again, only to see that he hadn't disappeared. Still, it didn't have to mean anything, but of course, she couldn't be sure.

So she stretched her arm and groped for the gun. She managed to pick it up quickly enough and she shot several times, but the bullets, as if not on her side, missed him.

"That's three bullets you wasted!" he scoffed at her from under a tree. "You wanna play tag, or what?"

She hadn't lowered the gun yet, but she hesitated before shooting again. She felt too dizzy and her hands shook too much for her to aim correctly. She was trying to focus when she heard Chloe run to her and felt her put her hands on her waist to help her walk. Obviously, she wanted them to run away.

Brennan let the child lead her without even protesting or considering whether it was the best solution. She walked as fast as possible, but her steps were still unsteady. Chloe matched her pace to hers, her small arm still wrapped around her waist, as if thinking that she was able to support her weight.

"Are you having fun, sweetheart?"

Under other circumstances, Sam's scornful tone would have made her smile. She had the gun. All he had was a pitiful wooden stick. She could have turned on her heels and shoot him dead. She should have. But something was pushing her to keep moving, again and again, and never stop, so she merely quickened her pace.

"Come on, Tempe. This is no good. You're hurt. You need medical attention," he mocked her, loud enough to be sure that she'd hear every word of it.

She knew that he was repeating the words she had said earlier. He was following them, maintaining the same distance; knowing that she was unable to aim at him correctly; aware that she didn't have a lot of bullets left; probably knowing how many she had left. He was following them, waiting for her to break down, or fall, or both. He was following them, and although she couldn't see him, she could envision his scornful, superior smirk by his voice. But, more than that, what struck her was the curious tone of voice that he employed with her. It sounded as if he was talking to a child. In fact, if he hadn't said her name, she would have sworn that he was talking to Chloe.

The faster she tried to walk, the slower she went. She couldn't feel her legs anymore. She'd be out of air soon, incapable of walking. She hated to admit it, but he was right; they couldn't keep on playing tag.

"Get down!" she ordered Chloe before turning on her heel all of a sudden.

She raised the gun. She had surprised him. It was her chance. She had to be quick. She tried to convince herself that she was able to do it, but before she could attempt to aim at him, he had already hidden behind a tree.

She felt Chloe pulling her sleeve. "We can't stop now."

But Brennan rested her back against a tree trunk, shaking her head in discouragement. She had burnt her last strength.

"Look," she said, sliding to the ground. "We'll just… catch our breath…"

"Tempe…"

Brennan stared into the child's begging eyes during a long moment before she was able to talk again.

"Chloe… I need you to listen to me. Can you listen?" she asked, doing her best to adopt a calm, steady tone. There was no need to cause this child to panic more than she already had.

"Yes," Chloe answered in a firm but low voice.

"I need you to run away, okay?"

She saw the child's eyes fill with tears. "No," Chloe whined.

"Yes. I need you to run away and leave me behind."

It was the only solution but she hated herself for coming to that conclusion. She hated herself for lying to this little girl, she hated herself for making her believe that she could protect her, that she was safe with her, that she was able to help her get out of there and find her parents. She hated herself for having to say these words, for abandoning her to her fate. She was so young…

"No, you promised…"

"I lied," Brennan whispered, on the verge of tears. The disappointment she saw in the girl's eyes broke her heart.

"_Now, tell her the truth, honey."_

She wanted to scream hysterically, order this voice to stop murmuring in her ears, raise her gun and shoot Sam straight in the head.

"I'm sorry, Chloe," she said with sobs in her voice. "I can't protect you." She didn't wipe away the few tears that wet her cheeks. She didn't have the strength to anymore.

"No, you promised." The little girl waited, staring at her with expectation, as if she believed that she'd take her in her arms, reassure her, then get up and start again. A tear slid down Chloe's cheek, as well.

Brennan had never felt so ashamed in her whole life. She felt ashamed of being the adult and to be the one who cried, ashamed of being the one with the gun yet being scared, ashamed of giving up.

"_You remember what I said in the video I left for you?" _

"You said that—that what you did, you did it out of love."

"_That's right, honey."_

She leaned the back of her head against the trunk and closed her eyes, unable to hold back a sob. "You're wrong. When you disappeared, that's when I died."

"_No. That's when you were born. You've become what you are, because of that. And you're going to survive, because of that."_

She felt so lonely and lost. For a couple of seconds, she allowed herself to wish that Booth was here, that she could just hide in his arms, rely on him. "Tell me what to do," she begged out loud, forgetting the presence of the child.

"_I gave you my strength. Use it."_

"Tempe. Use me. To get up."

Chloe's voice brought her back to reality. The little girl stood up and stretched her hand in her direction. Brennan was amazed to see how brave she was. She had stopped crying, she was ready to go. She hadn't given up. She was strong, because they were together. She still had faith, because she still believed in her.

"Okay," Brennan said, taking the hand which Chloe was offering her. By a miracle, she managed to get to her feet.

"I'm not leaving you," Chloe said with a soothing smile.

Brennan felt like laughing and crying at the same time. She felt even more ashamed that it was now this little girl who tried to reassure her. There was so much in those mere five words. 'I may be a child but I can help you be strong', 'I forgive you for thinking of abandoning me', 'I believe in you'.

Chloe led her, holding her arm firmly, pushing her to go faster. Her head was still spinning, she still stumbled with each step and she still felt the urge to rest her weight on the small, frail girl, but she was determined to keep going. She looked straight ahead of her, even though her vision was blurred. When she saw a foot appearing from behind a tree, she didn't realise quickly enough what a threat it could hold. Chloe screamed when Sam, armed with his wooden stick, appeared from behind this same tree.

* * *

Sam Lieberman had always been a patient man. Observing, waiting, stalking, were part of his modus operandi. It took time to make sure he wasn't mistaken, time to be sure it was the right moment. The right girl, the right place, the right time. And honestly, he truly enjoyed this, observing them, waiting for them, and stalking them, before they became his. They never were the same, after he took them.

Yes, a patient man he was. He followed her during long minutes, taking pleasure in seeing her stumble, feeling glad at watching her fall. She was the one with the gun, yet he was the one in charge. How ironic. It was funny how convinced she was to have a chance to get away from him. Had she just given up and lain down here, it would have saved them time, but she seemed to refuse to stop.

He was a patient man, but there was a limit to this patience. He was in control, after all. He was the hunter and she was the prey. So when he became tired of this little game, tired of stalking her, he just quickened his pace and hid, waiting for her.

* * *

She didn't see the blow coming. Usually, she'd have shot him before he could have got to her, but this time, she wasn't able to. She only managed to avoid the blow, but the movement made her fall clumsily. When she realised that she had dropped the gun, he was already trying to reach for it. Although this time, she was quicker. She grabbed the gun and pointed it straight at him.

"Don't shoot," he said, letting drop the wooden stick and raising his arms in surrender. "I surrender."

"Don't move," she ordered, getting to her feet.

"I surrender," he repeated in a tone which didn't fit his words.

Even though he had let go of his weapon, and even though she was threatening him with a gun, he still thought that he was in charge.

"Stay where you are," she said again. Despite her will to sound confident, her voice remained low and unsteady. It was already so difficult to stay up and it seemed that she was losing her struggle to prevent her arms from trembling.

"You win, I give up. No, we're waiting for your partner and he'll place me in custody, right? I mean, it's your job to get me out of here safely."

"You stop!"

"Sure," he said calmly. "By the way, are you lost?" he added scornfully after a short pause. "Because if you're lost, I can show you the way back."

"The house, Sam. Where is the house?"

"The house? Uh… It's not far. You wanna go there? I can take you there. But I only have one vehicle and it's at the police station, remember? I can also take you to the chopper, if you want. The radio still works, I tested it. And we left your cell phone there. Just tell me and I'll lead you to the chopper. I know where it is."

Brennan noticed that he was glancing at the wooden stick at his feet. Obviously, he was saying what she expected him to say, merely trying to gain time.

"He's lying!" Chloe said.

"I know," she whispered.

"He's waiting for you to fall down again. Then he'll kill us."

"I know."

"You know what?" Sam asked, raising his brows in a superior look.

"You have to shoot him!" Chloe squealed.

She wanted to, but she couldn't. Her vision was too blurred, her head too painful, her arms trembling too much. She would waste a bullet, just like earlier. "I c—I can't," she stammered.

Chloe moved closer to her and grabbed her wrist. "Then I'll help you," the child said in a determined tone, frowning in concentration. She slid her small finger in the trigger guard and closed her left eye in order to aim correctly. She had seen this on television, maybe. She was only six but she knew where to shoot. She aimed at his chest. Brennan didn't move. She held her breath and let the child press her finger on hers. She wondered how many bullets remained, then thought that it wasn't important. Only one shot was necessary. One shot, right to his heart. He collapsed onto the ground. And so did she.

* * *

_**A/N : We're almost finished with angst... almost... and where angst ends, fluff begins! Thanks again to you, Catherine, for taking time to correct my chapters. While I'm writing chapter 16, if you're tired to wait and begin another story, just go to C.M. Bones profile and read the two chapters of Never Say Never we published, I promise you that you'll like them. And I promise you fluff soon.**_


	16. Safe in his arms

_**A/N : Aw, April now... A chance I have a lot of writing projects, otherwise I would turn mad. A big thank you to all the reviewers, I won't write names as I'm always afraid to forget somebody unintentionally. You're all very kind. Just a special note for Temper: it means a lot to me that you reviewed my story, I do know that you published some more things and I'm really late on reading all that I wanna read but I will, some day.**_

_**So... Do you feel fluff coming? If not, you should, because we're almost done with angst now. And the story is far from finished. Good reading!**_

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**Chapter 16 – Safe in his arms**

He didn't know how long he had been looking for her. He didn't know how long he had been walking in the forest, holding tightly the earring in his fist, his nails digging deep into the flesh of his palm. He didn't know how many shots he had heard. He didn't want to know. When he caught sight of two human forms lying still on the ground, his heart skipped a beat and he rushed in their direction. It was her. He knew it was. And the pilot, whomever he was. The son of a bitch who had forced her to leave the chopper, injured. He wasn't sure he understood everything yet. Just that he'd shoot him between the eyes if he wasn't already dead.

He ran faster, his heart now pounding hard in his chest. One of them had to be dead. He sprinted, praying for her to be the one holding the gun. The man's shirt was covered in blood. Single shot to the chest. She was the one holding the gun. Or had been, for it merely lied on the ground, now.

He kneeled next to her and reached to find a pulse in her neck, but as soon as his fingers touched her skin, he noticed her chest heaving. He noticed her cuffed hands, too. He couldn't help but thinking how amazing she was. Injured, running out of strength, she had fought against him and, probably, against herself, too. She had reached her limits, and even gone over them. She hadn't broken down until she was sure that she had won, that she had gained back control, that she was safe.

The earring felt more precious than ever in his fist. She had never given up. Because she knew he'd come. Because she trusted him.

His hand slid to her cheek as he leaned closer. He didn't like the dried blood that had formed on the wound on her forehead, neither was he reassured when it took her so long to react. He brushed his fingers against her dirty face, his nose against her damp hair, his lips against the soft skin of her temple. He kept saying her name, murmuring it in her ear, over and over again, until she moaned and moved slightly. And only then, he buried the jewel in his pocket, as if he didn't need it anymore now that she had awoken. With his free hand, he took one of hers, his gaze never leaving her face.

"It's okay, Bones, it's all over now. I'm here. I'm here. It's all over."

She didn't open her eyes at once. She didn't talk. She seemed to be listening to him, she seemed to feel safe with him. A slight smile of relief appeared on his lips. In truth, whether she was fully awake or not, she knew it was him.

* * *

When she regained consciousness, she wasn't surprised. She wasn't really confused, either. Everything seemed to happen like she had thought it would. Like she had hoped it would. It might as well have been a dream, she knew it very well. But she was too tired to call everything into question. She slightly moaned, and barely moved, only to prove him that she was awake. She merely listened to his soothing words, simply relished in the feeling of his hands on her skin. She didn't open her eyes. No need to. She knew it was his voice, as much as she was sure these were his hands. She knew she didn't need to talk. He was here, and it was enough.

She feared that it would be a delusion again. She decided that it was not.

And then, as if he had felt her anxiety, he squeezed her hand gently while his warm breath caressed her face, making her almost forget the pain in her head. It was so reassuring to have him here, so good to know that she could rely on him now. That she could let herself go and sleep safely now, because she didn't need to run away anymore, didn't need to fear for... Chloe...

Suddenly, a wave of panic washed over her and she opened her eyes abruptly, her body tense with apprehension. She met his dark, deep gaze, and saw her own concern reflected in his eyes.

"He—he's dead, isn't he?" she asked, aware that her voice wasn't louder than a whisper.

"Yes, Bones. He's dead."

His words had been a murmur, too. Because he understood that her head hurt like hell, probably. Or maybe because their faces were so close. Yet, the positive tone she had heard in his voice reassured her and she relaxed in his arms.

"Chloe—Where's Chloe?" she managed to utter again. She had to be sure. She had promised to protect her, to lead her safely out of the forest, to bring her back to her parents.

"Chloe?"

"Is she—Is she safe?"

Surprised, Booth glanced around before turning his gaze back to her. "Who's Chloe?"

It took her a moment to answer. It was hard to focus on the meaning of his words, and harder to concentrate on what she wanted to say. "The—the little girl. Is—she all right?" Her voice was hoarse. She realised that her throat was dry. She swallowed, trying to lessen her thirst. She guessed he didn't have a bottle of water with him, or he would already have made her drink a few gulps.

Booth stared at her, puzzled, and hesitated before he talked. "A team has been sent to the house, looking for her. Don't worry."

Her head ached so much that she couldn't keep her eyes from closing again. She wanted to be strong, but she couldn't anymore. Her ears were buzzing painfully. She didn't remember exactly what he had said but she thought she had heard something like "Don't worry." Chloe couldn't be far, anyway. She wouldn't have left alone. And she wouldn't have left _her_ alone.

"I'm gonna bring you back now, okay?"

She gave him a slight nod that she agreed, even though everything was confused. Whatever was going to happen next, she completely relied on him. Yet, she couldn't help being scared when she felt him raising to his feet and walking away from her, but a short moment later he was removing her cuffs. Soon, she felt him slide one arm under her back, the other under her knees, and in what seemed to her merely a fraction of a second, he had lifted her from the hard ground, holding her tightly and secure against him. And then, the dark, silent, confused unconsciousness was no longer a threat.

* * *

The way back to the chopper seemed to him a short trip compared to when he had been looking for her. Now, he knew where he was going. Now, she was safe in his arms, breathing against his chest. Neither her contusions nor the wound on her forehead seemed very serious. He tried to convince himself that she was only exhausted. He wondered why she had been so worried about the little girl, though. He couldn't help finding it weird the way she had mentioned her. For a moment, it had seemed to him that she was expecting to see her around, as if they had been together before but soon he had abandoned the idea. When he had followed her tracks, he had never caught sight of a child's footprints. No, she had probably been referring to the assumption of a little girl who, maybe, was still alive. He didn't understand how Bones could possibly know her name, if it was actually her name, but it had to have to do with the phone call she had received before they left.

He stopped a moment to catch his breath. She was heavier than she looked and his muscles were beginning to get sore. But not for the world would he have put her down. He stopped thinking of his aching arms and relished in the feeling of her warmth against his body. He closed his eyes for a moment, brushing his lips against her forehead, before realising how inappropriate his behaviour was. Less than ten minutes and he would reach the chopper. He had to keep going.

When he heard voices, he quickened his pace. A second chopper had landed on the clearing, and the medical team was busy with an injured man on a stretcher whom he didn't even bother try to recognise. Probably the young cop, Robbie. Then, everything went quite fast. Two EMT drew a stretcher close to him and he laid her carefully on it. Reluctantly, he stepped back to let the doctors do their jobs.

He wished he had been able to keep her to himself instead of putting her in other persons' care. He wished that he hadn't been in charge of this mission, so that he would have been able to go with her. He wished he would be the first person she'd see when she woke up. But he had responsibilities, and her life was not in danger. So he let her go. He let them take her away.

* * *

Chloe awoke slowly with a strange feeling. She rolled on her side and cuddled up under the covers. She had been almost sure she had heard voices, and now there was nothing but the silence. She opened her eyes, only to see the room plunged into the dark. Night, day, winter, summer, hot, cold, it made little difference in here. Anyway, she was used to it now.

She suddenly remembered what had happened before—that he was gone, leaving her all alone. What if he wasn't actually gone for good? She pricked up her ears, held her breath, but again, she didn't hear anything.

As an eerie feeling washed through her, causing her stomach to knot, she took a deep breath and obliged herself to fall into sleep again. But no sooner had she slipped into slumber that a loud noise made her jump. She sat straight in her bed, pushing the covers back. Somebody was in the house. No. Several people were in the house. She could hear them walk upstairs. She waited, the sound of her heartbeat ringing in her ears, her little hands clinging to the sheet. She waited, torn between hope and fear.

When the door opened, she didn't move. She didn't speak. She only looked up at him in the doorframe, his silhouette lined out in the light like a supernatural apparition. He didn't seem as tall as Sam and he was thinner, too. His hair was longer and he didn't wear a beard. He wore a dark outfit with big white letters written on his chest which she couldn't quite make out yet. From the darkness, she watched him going down the stairs, slowly. She held her breath and pretended to be invisible. It was funny for a few seconds, but soon, he was too close for her to be reassured. How would she know whether she could trust him?

A strand of hair fell before her eyes, but she didn't move to push it back. He was coming closer, taking steps slowly, without a sound. She felt a chill running up her spine. Was it for her to be less afraid of him, or did he think that he'd catch her more easily this way? When he reached the bed, she couldn't help cringing; yet she never let her eyes off him. Seeing her reaction, he stopped and they stared at each other for a moment before he kneeled down and rested his arms on the bed, though never attempting to touch her.

"I'm not gonna hurt you, sweetie. I'm not gonna touch you if you don't want me to, okay?"

She probed his eyes, analysed his voice. His gaze was gentle and his tone, low and soothing. She wanted to trust him, but she wasn't sure yet.

"What's your name?" he asked softly.

"Becky," she answered quickly—out of habit, or just in case. "Where's Sam?"

The man didn't speak immediately, as if he hesitated. "Sam isn't here, sweetie."

"When will he be back?"

Again, she guessed that he was considering the best answer to give her. "My name is Will. I'm FBI. I'm here to help you," he said, stretching his arm carefully for her to take his hand if she wanted to. As she didn't make a move, he added, "Your parents are waiting for you. They miss you a lot."

"I miss them too," she whispered. Tears suddenly shot to her eyes and she sniffed. "Are they waiting outside?"

"No. But I can bring you to them."

"Sam said that my daddy had an accident and that he would drive me to the hospital. And instead, he brought me here."

She heard him sighing sadly. "Yeah, I know, sweetie. But Sam isn't here anymore. He'll never hurt you again."

He paused and stared at her with something in his eyes that reminded her of the way her father looked at her when she was ill. It seemed so long ago...

"I'm FBI, see?" he added, pointing his finger to the big white letters on his chest. "F—B—I. Federal Bureau of Investigation. I do know it's complicated for you. But it means that I'm here to protect you. It's my job."

She stared at the letters for a long moment. F. B. I. He was right, she didn't know what it meant but it made her think of police uniforms. "Are you a policeman?"

"Sort of. Only I have a bigger gun."

She caught herself smiling. "And the other people upstairs, are they policemen, too?"

"Yes."

"Where is Sam?" she asked again, worried.

"We're looking for him, and when we find him, we'll put him in jail."

"Okay," she said in a little voice.

"Will you come with me upstairs?"

She nodded her agreement. "Can you take me in your arms?"

"Of course, sweetie."

He opened his arms and she wrapped hers around his neck.

"My name isn't really Becky," she confessed in his ear. "It's Chloe. Chloe Brighton. I live at 23, Fox Drive, Powhatan, Virginia."

Then, she rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, believing that she'd never be afraid anymore, for she was safe, now. Safe in his arms.

* * *

_**A/N : Thanks for reading! Please tell me what you think about it. I hope that this chapter wasn't too confusing. More answers will come in next chapter, but if it's not clear enough, just ask me and it'll be a pleasure to answer you ;)**_


	17. All truth

_**A/N : Thank you so much for your reviews, it's really exciting to know that some people are always waiting impatiently for next chapter, and I wish I could update more often. Unfortunately, time and inspiration are lacking sometimes, but thank you for your comprehension and your patience. I've got some good news and bad news about it. Chapter 18 may be the last one for this story, I'm not sure yet, I'll decide while writing it. But I have an awesome idea for the beginning of my next multichapter. Then, I gotta tell you that I'll have less time now, because I'm gonna work again. Fortunately, my Fridays will be free, so that's great, it'll leave me some time. Actually, I don't think it'll affect a lot the rhythm of my writing, but just in case, I'm telling you.**_

_**Good reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter 17 – All truth**

A loser, a good-for-nothing. A freak. Stuart Denton was used being called this. By his mother, his father, his teachers, his schoolmates. By his boss, too, during the time when he still had a work. There had been a time when he was bothered. Now, he didn't mind anymore. They didn't know him. They never tried to understand him, and they would never make an effort to. So he just ignored them.

But at this very moment, Stuart Denton was disenchanted. Nothing was going on like he had planned, nothing was happening like he had hoped. He wasn't leading these people, they were dragging him with them. When they turned their attention to him, it was only to despise him. He wasn't in control anymore. He wondered if he had ever been in control, actually.

When they had arrived within sight of the house, he realised that he didn't even have a key. When he had lifted the doormat, he swore silently, for there was nothing under it but dirt. He had been obliged to find an excuse, but they didn't seem to buy it. He had even protested when they had smashed the door open, pretending it would take him days to fix it. They hadn't let him enter. They had searched the house without asking him further questions. After all his efforts, they still didn't believe him. Even after finding the girl in the cellar, they kept taking him for a fool.

He had really ended up a laughing stock. Now, in the small, dirty cell that would be his room for the night and the following ones, he had nothing to do but think of how he had screwed it all up. He had better shut his mouth.

A loser, a good-for-nothing, a freak. Sadly, this was actually the truth.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, everything wasn't dark; everything wasn't cold or silent. A small smile spread on her lips. It was just like a dream. Was it only a dream? The sun cast its rays through the window, lightening the sunny, white-walled room. She rubbed her eyes. And rubbed them again. She pinched her arm. Then, she pinched it harder. And as her surroundings hadn't changed, she concluded that it was not a dream.

Although most people don't like hospitals, Chloe discovered that she loved this one. Everything was so white, so clean. At first, she had thought that it smelled strange, but now she had got used to it. The policemen, the hospital, the nurses—it meant that she was free. It meant that she'd get to see her parents soon, go back to her former life. Back to her bedroom, her smooth pink sheets, the toys and dolls she used to play with. Back to school, her friends and the playground. Back to her mother's gentle arms, to her father's strong chest.

"Can you open the window?"

The nurse startled and rushed to the bed. "You've woken up..." she said with a gentle hand leaned on her brow.

Patiently, Chloe watched her moving and checking a lot of stuff she didn't understand, hesitating to ask again. She hated asking. What if she scolded her? What if she closed the blinds for good? What if she locked her in the dark like Sam used to? But she quickly chased her fears away. Something in this place made her feel safe, and something in the woman's eyes made her feel cared for. "Can you open the window?" she asked in a little voice.

"Of course, sweetie, I'm sorry," she apologised before she quickly walked to the window and pulled it wide open. "Usually, we're not allowed to do that. The air conditioning, you know. We're not supposed to open the windows. But for you I can make an exception, can't I?" she added with a mischievous smile. "You wanna take a closer look?"

Chloe only managed to nod shyly. The nurse came closer, stretching her hand in the child's direction. She stared at it for a couple of seconds. "C'mon, Chloe, don't be scared," she encouraged her. "You can walk."

Eventually, the little girl took the hand that was offered to her and went out of the bed. Her feet were bare but this floor wasn't cold. She lowered her eyes, watching her steps, and smiled when she stepped in the pool of warm light. It felt so good. When the nurse stopped, Chloe raised her gaze to look outside. She was just tall enough. It had to be the end of the afternoon for the sun, though still hot, wasn't that high, and well, because it felt like it—a sunny, warm, happy, summer afternoon. She closed her eyes to focus on the smells and sounds. It smelled like fresh cut grass, like a Sunday afternoon. She heard birds, and voices, and cars, and indeed, when she opened her eyes again, she could see that the parking lot was full. Cars were arriving, others were leaving. Several people were walking—some of them alone, others with children.

"When will I see my parents?" she dared ask, looking at the nurse expectantly.

"Very soon, sweetie. Very soon."

As she gazed into the woman's eyes, Chloe knew that she was telling the truth. That all adults weren't liars.

* * *

It took her some time to understand what her skin made contact with—fabric, not soil. A sheet. Bed. Hospital. It took her some time to notice the whirring of the air conditioning. She was almost surprised to realise that her head didn't hurt anymore. Then, she remembered. She remembered Chloe, how they had shot Sam together, and that she had lost consciousness after this. She remembered Booth's reassuring voice, his strong, comforting arms, and the paramedics. Everything seemed so silent, now. It had to be night. Opening her eyes confirmed her thoughts. The room was dark and the door, closed. She wondered how long exactly she had been sleeping—ten, maybe eleven hours.

She pushed the sheet back and sat up straight, slowly. Her head didn't spin anymore. She touched her brow and found a bandage on the right. She pressed her fingers against it and winced, yet she concluded that the wound wasn't serious. She let her legs hang over the side of the bed, then put her feet down on the floor. Carefully, she got up, and found that she could walk without any difficulty. She stopped at the window and, ignoring the recommendation of keeping it closed when the air conditioning was on, she opened it. The dark sky was scattered with stars. What a dreamy sight. It occurred to her that she didn't take time to look at the stars enough. Too bad. You should never stop looking at the stars. She wondered if Chloe was having good dreams. Poor child. They had probably submitted her to plenty of annoying, scaring and sometimes painful medical exams. She hoped that she was sleeping peacefully, now. She deserved it.

She took a deep breath. The air smelled like fresh cut grass. It reminded her of those sunny Sunday afternoons, when she was a child and everything was still normal. When she was still happy. She fought back the few tears that shot to her eyes, feeling stupid. Well, she was happy now, wasn't she? She had an interesting, fulfilling job. She had money. She had good friends. A partner who was always there when she needed him. A partner who'd die for her.

She closed the window, sighing, and lay down on the bed, staring absently at the ceiling. She _was_ happy. But the truth was, she could have been more.

* * *

He could have gone back to his hotel, he could have been sleeping in a bed. Instead, he chose to stay here and try getting some rest on a chair. Jeez, these hospitals seemed to all have these same hard, uncomfortable plastic seats. Booth sat, then sunk a little, then shifted to another position, then huffed, annoyed. What was with the plastic chair? He had slept in worse conditions, in worse places, in more distressing situations. What was he now, an old, soft man?

He sat straight and tried to convince himself that he wasn't sleepy, anyway. However, now that the stress and adrenaline had dropped, he was truly exhausted. Exhausted, but relieved. The case was closed, a child had been saved, and Bones was okay. He yawned and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. This chair was the most uncomfortable chair that he had ever sat in, yet he had no problem falling asleep in it.

* * *

Chloe woke up in the middle of the night. Feeling the urge to check if she was still in the hospital room, she sat up straight abruptly and let her gaze wander the room, quickly. When she was reassured, she lay down and curled up under the sheet. She wasn't cold but it was cosier just to hold the sheet very tight over her. It was like a protection, a shield.

She let out a deep, contented sigh. Tomorrow, she would see her parents. For real. They'd hold her in their arms, tell her how much they had missed her, then they'd bring her home. It all still seemed like a dream. But somehow, she knew that it wasn't. So she slipped into slumber again, thinking of her father's smile and her mother's soft hands.

* * *

Booth groaned when he realised that he had been sleeping in an uncomfortable position. He straightened his head and moaned in pain for his neck hurt like hell. He stretched his sore arms and legs, wincing, before he managed to get to his feet. He headed to the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. When his eyes turned to his reflection in the mirror, he made a face. The white light of the neon made him seem ashen-faced. He wet his unmanageable hair, trying to give it a semblance of shape, and pulled at his tee-shirt to make it lose its creases. Another look in the mirror left him more satisfied with his appearance, and he headed for the coffee machine.

He took several gulps of the hot liquid, trying to convince himself that he felt as fresh as a daisy, which was quite far from the truth. In truth, he felt sore all over, and not completely woken. And, honestly, a little nervous. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was quarter to eight, and he sighed, bothered. Over one hour to wait before he'd see her. He sat down, the cup of coffee in his hands. Patience had never been his strong point. One hour... It was enough time for him to drop by his hotel and take a shower. But then, what would have been the point in staying there all night? He suddenly felt stupid, but soon he decided that he merely needed to stay as close to her as possible.

He finished his coffee, rose, and threw the cup in the garbage can. Hey, she wasn't going to vanish or leave while he was gone.

* * *

Brennan closed her eyes as the tepid water finished waking her up. When she stepped out of the shower and dried her body, she felt better. Relaxed, almost cheerful. The events of the day before seemed nothing but a bad dream, now. She wondered if Chloe was already awake. After what they had shared, she felt some sort of connection between them. Something strong she'd never thought she'd ever experience with such a young child. She could but admire the courage of the little girl. They'd probably never see each other again after this, but it didn't matter.

She opened her bag and chose a clean pair of jeans. She'd tell her good bye before she left.

* * *

When he entered, after a knock and her invitation, he was surprised to find her seated on the bed, her medical file on her lap. He smiled inwardly, realising that he had been convinced that she'd be lying down. After all that had happened the day before, she was now fully woken, dressed, her bags next to the door, ready to go. Same old Bones. Always trying to pretend that she wasn't affected by anything.

"Hey," he greeted her simply.

"Hey."

"So—How's the patient doing?" he asked with a mischievous look, pointing his finger to the medical file.

"She's doing well and she'll be released within the hour," Brennan replied before rising.

"Maybe you should stay here one more day, Bones," Booth said with a worried voice. "The wound on your head, it's—"

"—no big deal," she finished, cutting him off. "The bandage is impressive, that's all. I'm wearing it to please them. I'll take it off when I get out of here."

"I could wait for you, you know. I'm not leaving you here alone. The hotel room has been booked for the week, anyway."

"Thank you, Booth, but you know, I—I really want to get out of here—come back home."

He moved closer, nodding his head slightly. "Yeah, I know what you mean. Oh, by the way—" She watched him with curiosity as he fumbled in his pocket, and she looked startled when he took her hand. "I've got something that belongs to you," he explained, placing the earring in her palm before closing her fingers around it. He tried to read her eyes, but what was in them remained indescribable. "I knew you wouldn't give up."

She lowered her gaze to look at the small jewel in her palm. And when she raised her eyes to him again, what he saw in them was different. It was as if he sometimes managed to break through those walls she kept around herself constantly. It was always but a short moment, a respite. But it was enough to him. And precious.

"I knew you wouldn't give up," she whispered, holding his gaze.

There was nothing to respond to that. He didn't have a lot of possibilities. He could either move away from her and tell her it was time to go, or draw her close to him and wrap his arms around her. At random, he chose the embrace. It didn't last long enough, yet, at the same time, it somehow lasted too long. Looking at her, feeling her against him, was too much for him to bear, and he suddenly drew a step back.

"Let's go?" he said, hoping the rhythm of his heartbeat couldn't be heard in his voice.

"Yeah, I—There's something I'd like to do before we go, if you don't mind."

"Sure. What is it?"

"I'd like to see Chloe. Do you know where she is?"

"No, but we can find out. C'mon."

He placed his hand on the small of her back and led her to through the corridors, glancing aside regularly to watch how well she walked. He was reassured to notice that her pace was steady. She had recovered fast.

It just so happened that Chloe's room wasn't far from Brennan's, and when they got there, a young nurse was walking out of the room. She stopped, leaving the door half-open behind her, and stared at them for a couple of seconds before giving them a warm smile.

"Are you Chloe's parents?"

Booth shot an embarrassed look at his partner. "What? No, we—we're just—"

"He's FBI," Brennan explained.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought—You can see her if you like, she's awake."

"Thank you."

As the nurse disappeared in the corridor, Booth watched his partner push the door slowly. He could see the little girl curled up in her bed, her back turned to them, her long blond hair fanned out on the white pillow. When Brennan called her softly, she sat up straight on her bed and looked at them with wide clear eyes. And at this very moment, he clearly saw his partner freeze and stare at her, gaping.

"Hey, Chloe, I, uh—I'm Doctor Brennan," she mumbled. "I just—I just wanted to make sure that you—that everything's fine."

"I'm all right, thank you. Shirley is nice to me. She said I'll see my parents soon." The child hesitated. "They will come, won't they?" she asked with evident distress in her eyes.

"Yes, they will come," Booth reassured her with a smile. "I saw them yesterday."

Chloe's worried pout turned into a grin. "Really?"

"Yes. I guess they're on their way."

"Are you a friend of Will's?"

"Who's Will?"

"He's from the FBI."

Booth chuckled. "Then, he's my friend. Look, Chloe, I'm sure your parents will arrive soon."

"Okay," she smiled.

He patted the little girl's arm and turned to Brennan, who was still standing next to the door, looking stunned and numb.

"Bones?" He called gently. "Bones? You okay?"

Finally, she seemed to snap out of her thoughts. "Uh—Yeah, I'm all right." She gave Chloe a smile. "Good bye, Chloe. Take care."

Observing his partner with concern, he closed the door and placed a hand on her arm. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she said in a casual voice, shaking her head. "Let's go."

"That's definitely not 'nothing', Bones," he insisted, holding her back. "You look like you've just seen a ghost."

"What? No, it's just—I'm proud of what we do. She'll be back at her home soon, and hopefully, she'll be able to lead a normal life."

He stared at her a moment, probing her eyes, before he let go of her arm. "Yeah. I hope so, too."

He sighed inwardly, walking beside her. He knew her well. He knew when she was lying. He knew when there was something that she wasn't telling him. And he hated that. So, he simply decided that it wasn't the right moment or the right place. This discussion would only be postponed.

* * *

As they were walking through the corridor, Brennan tried to adopt a neutral look. And it wasn't easy, when she was still in such a daze. Her Chloe had shorter hair. Her Chloe looked younger. And she had been a complete figment of her imagination, an illusion that her mind had made up to—to what, by the way? Help her hold on? All the way, she had been alone. And she had managed to shoot Sam alone. Hard to admit. But true.

"Bones? Your room was just here."

Startled back to reality, she turned on her heels and found Booth standing in front of the door, his arms crossed over his chest. "Ah—Sorry," she mumbled.

When their eyes met, she averted hers quickly. She knew that Booth suspected something, that she was a very bad liar. Maybe she'd tell him, another time. She hadn't made up her mind about it yet. On one hand, he'd probably laugh at her.

"So—Ready to go?"

She looked at him and his smile, one bag in each hand. Her fingers subconsciously brushed against the small silver earring in her pocket. On the other hand, he might not. And in any case, he deserved the truth.

* * *

_**A/N : Of course, reviews are always loved!**_


	18. Just a dream

_**A/N : I'm sorry, sorry and again, I'm sorry. I know you're probably mad at me because it took me so long to update. But the truth is, my week was crazy, and I wasn't even at home during the week end, but I managed to finish the chapter yesterday and my wonderful Catherine was really quick to correct it. I hope this week will be less crazy and that I'll have time to write and update on next Sunday maybe, but I can't promise anything. Good reading and thanks in advance for your comprehension!**_

* * *

**Chapter 18: Just a dream**

"I saw my mother."

Startled by his partner's sudden need to talk after several long minutes of silence, Booth turned his attention away from the road to look at her. "What?" he asked, wondering if he had heard correctly.

"I saw my mother," she repeated as if it was the most normal thing ever.

Booth narrowed his eyes. "You mean—like—in a dream?"

"No. I saw her. She was there, in front of me."

"You saw your mother in front of you, in a dream?"

"The first time, yes. But the second time, I was awake, and I saw her, like I see you, right in front of me."

What was she trying to say? That she believed in ghosts, now? Bones, the woman who believes in what can be explained scientifically only. That was definitely something... "Wait, Bones, it's—Well, you do know that—"

"Okay, forget that. I should never have mentioned it."

Booth found himself embarrassed when his partner turned her eyes away from him, an upset look stretched over her face. As for Brennan, she wished she had been able to keep her mouth shut, for once. Usually, she was used to keep this kind of stuff to herself. Yet this time, she had felt the urge to share this secret, as if it had become a burden to her. Maybe did she need to be reassured, somehow. Not that she wondered if she had gone crazy or something, but she felt the urge to share something with him. After all they had been through, she thought that he deserved something like this. But now, she regretted telling him.

"No, I—" She sensed guilt in his tone, and hesitation in the sigh he let out then. "Look. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you." When she felt his hand on hers, she kept staring at the window stubbornly. Only when he squeezed it slightly did she bother to look at him. "I'm sorry," he repeated, and the tone of his voice made it difficult not to accept his apology.

"Okay," she said simply in a low voice.

His hand left the softness of hers to go back to its initial place on the wheel. The suddenness of his gesture, as if he was afraid to burn himself, surprised her As she observed him, it seemed to her that his look was sort of awkward, as if he had abruptly realised that he had just done something inappropriate.

"So—You saw your mother," he began in a tone he hoped sounded casual.

"Why is it so hard for you to accept? I mean, you're the one who believes in the angel Gabriel coming to Mary in a dream, the Blessed Virgin appearing to Bernadette in Lourdes, not to mention the—"

"Yeah, yeah. Let's stop talking about religion, okay? So, you saw her. And what did she—what did she tell you?"

She thought for a moment before answering. "She helped me to hold on."

He threw her a quick, worried gaze. "Yeah. I can understand that."

"I'm okay, Booth. I'm fine. I got him, right?"

"Yeah. Right in the heart. You're an excellent shot, Bones."

"Yeah, I know. I'm glad you admit it. At last."

"I mean, you're an excellent shot, for a _squint_."

She chuckled. "I'm an excellent driver, too."

"Yeah, and you should never have driven all the way down there after forty-eight hours without sleep, you know. You could have killed yourself."

She couldn't help feeling annoyed by his reproachful tone. "I already have a father, thank you."

"Yeah. Sorry about that, I didn't mean to offend your independence."

His cold voice froze her, but not as much as the silence that followed. Usually, he didn't give up so easily. Usually, the bickering went on, as no-one was willing to let the other have the last word. It was like a game between them. But right now, it didn't seem as such. She watched him fixing on the road; God, he looked hurt. Usually, she didn't notice this kind of thing. It occurred to her that maybe he was dead tired. That he had been living difficult moments, too. That he was probably on edge, and that she wasn't exactly helping. Usually, she didn't bother. But this day, the last thing she wanted was to argue with him. She realised that she needed him to care about her, and how much she always messed everything up. Because when he showed her that he did care, she couldn't help reacting the wrong way. Always.

"I'm sorry, Booth. I didn't mean to be pushy."

The astonished look he threw her made her realise that she rarely lowered herself to apologise. And the smile he gave her then convinced her that she'd better work on it.

* * *

Chloe smoothed her skirt, once more. And once more, she looked at the closed door. It could be pushed open at any minute now. She put her palm flat on her chest, as if it would help her heart to slow down. The more time went by, the more anxious she became. They could arrive at any minute. Her excitement and happiness had given way to disquiet and uneasiness. It reminded her of when she had been performing in this Christmas play at school. Except, this time, there would be no public, and no spotlights. Only her mom, her dad, and she. She knew her lines by heart, she had repeated them over and over again in her head. She knew them, but she was afraid to find herself black out; to fall into pieces, to cry.

Yes, it felt exactly like waiting backstage. Once more, she got to her feet and walked towards the window. On tiptoes, she tried to look outside, tried to catch sight of her parents, of their car. But the parking lot was so huge it was impossible.

She had been doing it all morning long, sitting on her bed, going to the window, running to the bathroom. And to the bed again, then to the window, and the bathroom once more. She was never satisfied with her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was never nice enough, her clothes, never neat enough. What if they didn't recognise her? And what if they didn't want her anymore?

* * *

He gave up. What else could he do? She wanted him to drop her off at the hospital because, for some reason he didn't understand, she wanted to see her father. And she wanted to see him right now. "I'm fine. I can walk, I can carry my bags, and I can take a taxi to go back home. I'm. Fine. Booth." He had proposed her to wait, she had refused. So he had no other choice than to give up. He switched on the engine but his eyes didn't avert from her. He watched her walking towards the entrance of the hospital, and didn't let his eyes off of her until she disappeared behind the big glass doors. She walked with her back straight and head held high, holding her bags firmly. Nobody could have guessed that earlier in the morning, she herself was leaving the hospital. Same old Bones. With a smile, he engaged the gear and left. She'd never change, but he was fine with it.

* * *

Brennan made her way through the parking lot of Washington General. She tightened her grip on the handles of her bags as the huge glass doors of the main entrance opened before her. In truth, she realised that the muscles of her arms and legs were still sore. And actually, it was beginning to wake up the pain in her head. But she wouldn't show it. She wouldn't give Booth the opportunity to say that he was right. And she wouldn't give her father a reason to worry about her. She hated this. Too much concern became quickly overwhelming.

As she crossed the hall, aware of people's eyes on her, she decided that it was necessary that she dropped by the bathroom to remove that ridiculously big bandage on her brow. Hey, she wasn't a patient in here. Tonight, she'd sleep at home, and tomorrow, she'd be back at work.

* * *

After having been sitting on the bed for what seemed to her an eternity, Chloe lay on her side and curled up, sucking her thumb. She didn't care about her skirt anymore. She didn't care whether it was going to be crumpled or not. They still hadn't come. And they wouldn't. She knew it, now. All this had only been a dream. A stupid, childish dream. No, it hadn't. She was old enough to distinguish dreams from reality. But she had been childish enough to believe what she had been told. All these adults, assuring her that it was all over, that Sam was dead, that she'd be home in a few hours.

Suddenly, the hospital room looked completely different to her, and Chloe found herself repressing a shiver. The room was cold, and she felt frozen—frozen inside. Her parents were dead, or they thought their life was better without her. Maybe had they had another baby, now. She had always wanted a little brother. Someone to play with, someone to have fun with. Not someone to replace her. Her heart tightened. Maybe had they forgotten about her.

She let out a sob. She didn't mind that somebody might hear her. She was so tired. What would become of her? She cried a moment before she wiped the tears off her face angrily. She was tired of being lied to; tired of not understanding; tired of not knowing what would happen next. But above all, she was tired of crying. So she took a deep breath, doing her best to stop sobbing.

She had more or less managed to calm herself when the door opened slowly, startling her. She sat on her knees abruptly, fixing her gaze on the door with her eyes wide open, her body tense with stress. If her attention hadn't been completely focused on trying to catch sight of who was opening the door, she would have scolded herself. She would regret it, later. But despite all her resolutions, she really couldn't help hoping.

All the tension disappeared when she realised that it was only Shirley, the young nurse. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment and she let out a deep sigh.

"Hey! What's wrong, sweetie?" Shirley asked worryingly, moving closer to the little girl with a look of concern on her face.

"They won't come," Chloe said in a small voice. She didn't look the nurse in the eyes. If she did, she wouldn't be able to prevent herself from crying. So she preferred to keep staring at the floor, even when the gentle arms wrapped around her comfortingly.

"Who are you talking about, honey?"

Chloe sniffed before answering. "My parents. I know they won't come. They forgot me."

The soothing hand rubbed her back. "Where does that come from? Of course they didn't. And you know what? They are in the waiting room right now, with some policemen, waiting impatiently to see you."

The little girl shook her head disbelievingly. "That's not true."

"Chloe, look at me."

When the child didn't react, the nurse grabbed her chin and gently forced her to raise her head. She didn't resist. She wasn't used to; she was only used to do what she was asked to, without questioning, without even thinking. She was used to obey fear—fear of the consequences. But this day, she was so tired that nothing really mattered anymore.

"No," she whined.

"Chloe..." The nurse's sad sigh incited her to raise her gaze to her. "Chloe, your mom and dad are in the waiting room. Don't you wanna see them?"

No, it couldn't be. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. It was all lies.

"You don't want to see them?"

All lies. "No."

"Why not?"

"They are not my parents. My parents are dead."

"No, sweetie. That's not true. Who told you that?"

"I know it, that's all."

The nurse tightened her grip around Chloe's little body when the girl burst out crying. Caressing her head softly, she waited patiently for her sobs to cease. And when they did, she pulled back, just enough to look the child in her eyes.

"Look, sweetie. I know what you've been through. I can imagine how hard it is to trust people now. But could you at least give me a chance?"

Instead of fixing her gaze on her hands, Chloe stared at the young woman's eyes. There was something in them, some kind of begging, and something that made her want to trust her; something that made her want to think that she was safe, that she had nothing to be afraid of. Anyway, she had nothing to lose. So, after wiping away the moisture that remained in her eyes, she nodded her agreement. And, in spite of herself, she smiled when the young woman ruffled her hair affectionally. And she felt her heart warming up when she dropped a noisy kiss on her cheek. And while Shirley went out of the room with the promise that she'd be right back with her mom and dad, Chloe tidied up her hair and clothes, just in case she hadn't lied.

She sat on the bed, and waited quietly, without moving, like she had learnt to do. Because, just in case Shirley was right, she didn't want to disappoint her.

* * *

When she traded the cool hospital for the hot, damp air outside, Brennan thought that she was going to suffocate. Huffing, she put her bags down and waited patiently for her taxi to come. When at last she climbed in the comfortable, air-conditioned car, she closed her eyes and sighed with satisfaction.

"This warmth is horrible, right?"

Startled in her thoughts, she looked at the driver's eyes in the rear-view mirror and forced a polite smile. "Yes, we're lucky somebody invented air conditioning," she replied casually.

In truth, she felt tired. Tired, but relieved. The day before seemed so far, now, as if the events had taken place a long time ago. Seeing her father, talking with him had done her good. It was a weird feeling, something she was even hardly able to explain to herself. She needed it to connect herself to reality again, to take some distance from what had happened, to feel that she was back to normality again. When she had entered Max's room, she intended to talk to him about her visions. But upon seeing his smile, she had changed her mind. Because talking about it wasn't important anymore. Because she began to understand that some things were not meant to be explained. Because sometimes, words are useless. Because she found in her father's eyes what she needed. And because there was no point in rambling about what had been just a dream.

* * *

She was dreaming. It had to be a dream. Her father's arms and her mother's tears. She had dreamt of them so many times. Her mother's lips on her cheek, her father's fingers in her hair. Her own tears and their salty taste in her mouth, even if she wasn't actually aware that she was crying.

So many times she had had this dream before waking up in the dark, chilling cellar. She couldn't help thinking that it would probably be the case, soon. However, she noted that her parents looked different than in her dreams—her mother looked tired, with new wrinkles around her eyes; and her father seemed older, with silver hairs on his temples. But their voices were the same. Their voices, she hadn't forgotten. And their kisses, and their embrace.

So, she decided to make the most of it, to pretend that it was reality. Maybe was it just a dream, but then, it was the most wonderful dream she had ever had.

* * *

_**A/N : I promise you a fluffy chapter 19, with lots of BB in it. See you soon!**_


	19. Feels like heaven

_**A/N : Your reviews and encouragements always make my day, please never stop them! Thank you not to give up on this story even if it takes me ages to update, now. If it can reassure you, chapter 20 is already being written.**_

* * *

**Chapter 19 – Feels like heaven**

Chloe brushed her fingers over the smooth, long hair of the doll. Shania. That was her name. Her favourite name. She loved her big brown eyes so much. She had thought that with time she'd have forgotten them, but she hadn't. She stared out the window. The sun was shining and the sky was blue behind the thin purple curtains. It occurred to her that maybe she should have been feeling like going outside. She loved the summer so much. Playing in the garden, swinging. But right now, she just felt more secure inside, at home. At home, in her bedroom. At home, with her parents to look after her.

At home. The word felt weird. She glanced around, as though afraid that everything would disappear from one moment to another. It all still felt so much like a dream. She let out a deep sigh and held the doll very tightly. She felt a wave of distress wash through her, though she couldn't explain why. She should have been happy. She should have felt safe. After some time, maybe. She closed her eyes, trying not to cry or sniff. She knew she was there, standing in the door, observing her silently. Her mother. She didn't want her to see her crying. Because if she cried, her mother would cry, too. And that was the last thing she wanted. She hated to see her mother cry. So she held back her tears, as best as she was able to, holding Shania very tightly against her.

When she opened her eyes again, the doll was still in her arms; the purple curtains were still there, and she could still hear her mother breathing at the door. She got to her feet and climbed on her bed. The fluffy pillows smelt like before. She hadn't forgotten anything. And everything was exactly like in her memory. Like in her dreams. Like the mornings when she had woken up, thinking that she was home, only to realise that it was dark, and cold, and dirty. No, nothing had changed since she'd been gone, as if she hadn't been away at all. As though everything had only been a nightmare. A nightmare that seemed to have lasted for months. Maybe it was the truth. It sometimes happened. It seemed so real, and scary. It sometimes felt never-ending.

And then, you woke up. And you needed some time to realise that the nightmare was only a nightmare; that you didn't have to be afraid. You were scared all the same. But soon, your mother came and held you in her gentle arms. She whispered reassuring words in your ear, caressed your hair, kissed your cheek. And only then, you were not afraid anymore. And it felt like you'd never be afraid again. Because you knew that whatever happens, she'd still be there to protect you, there to reassure you.

"Mom, I want a hug," Chloe whispered, stretching her arms towards her mother with a slight smile.

The softness of her embrace, the toys on the carpet. Her smell, their reflection in the mirror of the closet. Her father's appearance at the door of the bedroom, his tender smile. Perfect. Everything was perfect. Just like before. As if nothing bad had never happened.

Every nightmare is meant to be forgotten.

* * *

A cool shower, a cup of coffee, and now, lying on the couch with a good book. Now that was what she called a relaxing afternoon. It was good to be home, good to be back to normality. Tomorrow, she'd be back to her working routine. Paperwork to close the case, first. Not something she liked, but unfortunately, it was necessary. Then, she'd probably work on these remains from World War Two that she had had to stop studying one week ago to focus completely on the current case.

Normality. How can you feel normal when you killed a man the day before? Whomever he was. How can you feel normal when the truth is you've got blood on your hands? That it's not even the first time. Of course, both times, she had had no other option to protect herself. So why did it bother her that much? Bullshit. It made no difference. How could anyone get used to have taken lives at all? Nobody could. It's impossible.

Brennan sighed sadly. She was only beginning to understand what Booth was feeling. The burden that he had to carry every day, what he was trying to expiate. She wondered if the guilt would ever disappear, if he'd feel like a good enough person to God, one day. Honestly, she thought that it would never happen.

Since she wasn't a religious person like him, she probably didn't feel the exact same way. But if it was unbearable to know that she had blood on her hands; even worse was the feeling that because of her, the bastard had had a too sweet death which he hadn't deserved. This man should have been judged for what he had done. He should have had the opportunity to look these people straight in the eyes and explain them why their little girls were dead. He should have been obliged to bear their hatred, been forced to face public humiliation. He should have rotted in jail, waiting for his execution.

She sighed again—out of frustration, this time; of anger, towards herself; of helplessness.

A single, deadly bullet to the chest. That was not what he deserved. And that was what she had offered him. She wondered how the hell she'd be able to look the parents' in the eyes, now. How she could possibly give them the assurance that their daughters had been avenged, leave them with the feeling that justice had prevailed? It was the least that she should have given them. But she had left them with nothing. No one to stand trial as the defendant. No trial. Nothing. It was so unfair.

Upset, mad at herself, she closed her book without even thinking of marking the page. She had been turning the pages without actually reading, anyway. She sat up straight on the couch. If she would believe in God, if she would believe in Heaven and Hell, would things be different? Probably, yes. She'd rely on God's divine judgement. It would be so much easier. Shaking her head, rolling her eyes, she huffed. Bullshit. Bull. Shit. God was only a picture of perfection and power that people invented to ease their sorrow, their fears, their guilt. How could Booth believe in that? Maybe he needed to, after all. Maybe it helped him feel better; maybe it helped him hold on.

A knock on the door startled her from her thoughts and she got to her feet quickly. She glanced at her watch. 7 pm. Looking through the peephole made her smile without her even realising it. He was standing there, with that casual attitude which wasn't that casual; holding a carbon box she guessed was filled with fat but delicious Thai food he knew she couldn't resist, his other hand half-dug into his pocket.

"Booth! What are you doing here?" The tone wasn't rough but the words definitely came out wrong and she almost bit her lower lip at seeing the sheepish look stretched across his face.

"Hi, Bones, nice to see you too..."

"No, I—That's not what I meant, I'm just—I'm surprised, I—I didn't expect you to be here, that's all. Come in."

"Thank you."

As he entered, following her invitation, she saw the look on his face change and the mischievous smirk he gave her made her smile. He was there, and she wasn't upset anymore. He beamed at her and she forgot all that had tortured her mind before.

"It's nice to see you embarrassed, once in a while," he teased.

She pushed the door closed, rolling her eyes. "I'm not embarrassed. I was just being polite," she retorted, pretending to be bothered when actually she was thankful that he was there.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," he mocked her.

It was a stupid game they liked to play. Laughing at the other was easier than saying 'I missed you', bickering was safer than admitting to actually care about the other.

"Will you open this box or do you intend to torture me by making me smell that food without letting me get a bite?"

"Well, actually I intended to torture you for a while but I don't feel like eating something cold, so if you ask me very nicely I could eventually give you a little bit of—"

He laughed, interrupting himself, when she took the box from him.

"Easy Bones! I thought that maybe you'd forget to eat, but I didn't expect you to be starving!"

"Well, actually, I am. Want a beer?"

"Sure," he grinned and settled himself comfortably on her couch.

* * *

As for dinner, she ate like a horse. In the past, her father would have scolded her, ordering her to eat properly. What was she, an animal or a nice, polite little girl? Or maybe would he have laughed, calling her an ogre teasingly? She would have protested, and he would have ended up tickling her. But this day, he didn't scold her, and he didn't laugh. He only watched her eat in silence, with concern, sadness and joy all at the same time. As for her mother, she remained still, holding her fork absently above her plate; it seemed that she had forgotten to eat, preferring to stare at her daughter with a tender smile and tears in her eyes.

Chloe looked down at her own plate with a smile. Beef and French fries, and tomato salad with this wonderful sauce only her mother knew how to prepare. And she already knew what she'd get for dessert. Chocolate mousse. Her favourite.

When eventually Chloe put her spoon down on the table, she rested her back against the back of her chair with a contented sigh. It was so perfect. Was she dead? Was this Heaven?

"Did you like it, sweetie?"

She beamed at her mother. "I loved it."

"Do you want some more?"

The sound of the watering in the neighbour's garden and this particular smell, the noise of a dog barking and children playing, the feeling of the gentle breeze against the skin of her face, neck and bare arms... The first star had just appeared in the now turquoise summer sky. If this was Heaven, she would never complain about being dead, never. She would have no problem staying there for eternity.

* * *

A couch, Thai food, and a fresh beer to crown it all, that was enough to make him happy. But when on top of all that he was lucky enough to share it with his beautiful partner, then it felt like Heaven to him.

Booth put his now empty can of beer down on the table and leaned his back against the couch with a sated sigh.

"Do you want another one?"

"Aw, don't tempt me. I'd better slow down if I wanna be able to drive back home."

"Of course. Sorry."

He glanced at his watch, even though he already knew what time it was. "You know, I—It's late, I'd better go home now."

He hated to have to mutter these words, hated to have to leave. But he couldn't stay here all night, could he?

And then their eyes met and something flashed in her eyes, some sort of disappointment he didn't miss. It was quick, tough, for soon she rose from the couch with a smile. "Yeah, you're right."

'You're right'. In many other circumstances he would have loved her saying these mere three words. Most of time, he would have been glad to hear them from her mouth. He would even have given her his cherry pie if she accepted to mutter them. But this night, he just hated them. What wouldn't he have given to get to stay with her, to be able to watch her loose ponytail and the rebellious locks of hair falling over her face for a little while longer?

"Thanks for the food, Booth; that was really nice of you."

Ashamed to be startled out of his thoughts, as if caught in the act, he cleared his throat with embarrassment before he dug his hands in his pockets, forcing a casual attitude, as though it could help him hide the fact that he was dying to let them run over her body—as to make sure they'd remain in proper place.

"You're welcome, Bones. Any time."

He forced himself to get to his feet, then obliged himself to walk towards the door.

"See you tomorrow at the diner?" she asked, her fingers closed around the handle.

The diner. So many times had he been _that_ close to kissing her there. Because of her smiles, because of their recurrent bickering, because of the times she let him have the last word; even for the times when she didn't let him have it. So many times had he eaten absently, not really appreciating the food because her presence and her sight were enough to relish in.

"No, wait, you're kidding, right? You're not really going to work tomorrow?"

"And why wouldn't I?" she retorted, crossing her arms in front of her chest defensively.

"Maybe because this morning you were still in the hospital," he said, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm fine, Booth."

The spark of annoyance in her eyes made him smile in spite of himself.

"What's funny?"

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"Then why are you smiling?"

"Because of this—this way you have of reacting when someone is worried about you."

"What about it?"

"Nothing. It makes me smile, that's all."

"I don't see what's so funny," she mumbled with a pout.

"It's not actually _funny_, Bones. It's just that—Well, I—"

He licked his lips, ran his fingers through his short hair, feeling awkward at how she was staring at him, expecting a rational answer to her rational question. It was all about this—rationality. But nothing about feelings is rational. Nothing about joy, sadness, anger—love—is rational. Okay, that was the moment; although there was nothing rational about him feeling that it _was_ the moment, but it—

_Jeez, sometimes you should really turn your mind off, bud._

"Uh, Bones—About—About what happened at the hospital, I mean—You know, I—"

Whether she thought she was coming to his aid by finishing a phrase that was probably hard to say, or she aimed at protecting herself, the words escaped her mouth too quickly and suddenly not to startle him.

"Nothing happened."

He hated her the moment she said that. Not for long, though. Only long enough for him to realise what was hidden behind her words. Her voice was firm, but the words she had said didn't sound right to him; her mouth had muttered something, but her eyes seemed to have said something else.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

She talked with no hesitation but the way she played with her fingers was enough to prove how nervous she was. Bones was never nervous. Or at least never did she give anyone a clue as to how she felt inside. That's why, honestly, observing the fragility she let show in spite of herself in this very moment gave Booth a feeling of power that he had never experienced with her. Something that encouraged him to grasp her neck and press his lips onto hers—not the way he had done it before, not gently, really, but more like he had something to prove, as if it was now or never, and never wasn't a conceivable option.

The kiss was quick but intense, and he pulled apart just enough to look in her eyes, but not enough to let go of her. If he had known that it would be all that he'd get from her, he wouldn't have complained. And if they had had to stay like this forever, he would have been happy all the same, because it felt like heaven.

"And now?"

* * *

The dark didn't seem threatening anymore. Not when her head was resting on these fluffy pillows. Not when her hands were clinging to those beautiful pink sleeves. Not when she was surrounded by all her dolls and bears. Not when she heard the crickets outside. Not when her mother had just sung her a lullaby. Not when her father was giving her a goodnight kiss.

"Do you want me to leave the light on in the hall, sweetie?"

The dark wasn't a threat anymore.

"No Daddy, thank you. The night light will be enough. As always."

Her father gave her a smile. "That's my girl." And after having stroked her hair a last time, he walked out of the bedroom, pulling the door half closed behind him; leaving her in darkness. But this darkness wasn't frightening, and it wasn't cold, like in her nightmare. This darkness was warm, and soothing, and relaxing. A darkness that announced sweet dreams.

* * *

_**A/N : Too cheesy? Not enough? OOC? I hope not, it's my biggest fear, I often have nightmares about it hehe**_


	20. Under the starry sky

_**A/N : Hello, wonderful readers! I know it's been three weeks. I'm SO sorry, and I swear, if I was able to go faster, i would. But it's just impossible. Anyway, I hope you'll like the chapter. Thanks for your patience and not giving up on that story. Good reading!**_

* * *

**Chapter 20 – Under the starry sky**

"And now, I still think it's not a good idea."

Booth felt a wave of frustration mixed with anger wash through him. If it wasn't a good idea, then why did she let him hold her? Then why had she let him kiss her, and why didn't she pull away? Why hadn't she slapped him yet? Why didn't she kick him out of here? Why hadn't she done anything? God, anything but let him make a fool of himself. Crazy. This woman was driving him crazy. Cra-zy.

He didn't loosen his grip on her and kept staring at her straight in the eyes without blinking, with the foolish hope that the intensity of his gaze would maybe make her give in to him. When she lowered her eyes with a sigh, he wondered if it meant that he had won.

"Booth, we work together. We're professionals, there's this line, you know that."

As if these words had given her more confidence, she let her gaze meet his again, and at this very moment he wished that he was able to read them. But what he saw wasn't clear. It was one of these annoying moments when nothing about her was clear. When she was all denial of the obvious, all hiding of the very emotion that she could feel. All detachment, all brought back to rational facts. When she wanted to, she was very good at it. It was part of her job, after all.

"You know that," she repeated, as if she thought that one time hadn't already been painful enough for him. "You're the one who brought it up."

Ouch. Now that really hurt. A lot. It felt like being trapped in his own trap, like being caught in quicksand.

"I know," he was forced to admit. "I know. But that was one year ago."

It was all that he was able to come up with at the moment. And according to the look she gave him, he could tell that she didn't buy it.

"Nothing has changed since then. We're still working together and we're regularly involved in high risk situations. What happened with Epps could happen again."

"But what about feelings?"

He bit his lower lip. That was it. He had said it, after all.

"There's a line that doesn't have to be crossed. You said these exact words, Booth. And it was very rational of you."

For once. It was very rational of you _for once_. Oh how he hated when her look turned into this insensitive look, when her voice took on this cold, scientific tone. Oh how he hated the word 'rational'.

"Rational? Nothing about feelings is rational, Bones. Nothing. You'd better understand it, someday. And accept it."

He hoped the words hadn't come out too harsh; that the anger which wasted him couldn't be heard in his voice. He realised that his hand was still holding her neck, that she hadn't complained about it. She didn't make a move either when he let go of her and took a step back, embarrassed.

"You didn't seem to have problems ending your relationship with Cam," she said with a shrug.

Same old Bones—if somebody was meant to calm things down, it was never her. To anger, she responded with coldness. To tough words, she answered with tougher words. Usually, it caused him to fly off the handle, and they'd bicker until one of them, whom was most of the time his partner, had the last word. But that wasn't some usual bickering. Because 'usual' meant 'work', and this conversation had nothing to do with work. At least, not for him.

"This, Bones, you don't know. Okay? You. Don't. Know. And let me tell you something. You wanna know what the difference is? Huh?"

"Yes."

Stupidly, he had thought that she would answer something like 'not really', or 'it's none of my business'. Caught in his own trap. Why had he decided to drop by here, again?

"Cam and I were just colleagues and friends, friends with—with benefits, if you wanna look at it this way. That's all. Now we're still friends. Just—good friends. And colleagues."

"I don't understand."

He closed his eyes briefly and let out an annoyed sigh. "Of course you don't."

"I still don't understand what difference it makes with us. I mean, we're partners, so we're colleagues. And we're friends I guess."

He couldn't help averting his gaze for a few seconds, feeling like a suspect in an interrogation room. He let go of her totally before he talked again. Because it felt easier this way, righter.

"What you don't understand, Bones, is that everything can't be analysed scientifically. Everything can't be explained anthropologically. The difference—is nothing rational. And the difference is that I love you."

* * *

Cynthia Brighton couldn't sleep. Not because she was still crying out of joy, not because the excitement and relief all at the same time made her heart beat too fast. But there was this distress in her, this knot in her stomach that prevented her from relaxing at all. Not that it changed from the usual—too many sleepless nights, wondering where her little girl was, if she was still alive, if she'd get to see her ever again. Now, she couldn't help wondering if that hadn't just been a dream. Twice, she had been to her daughter's room to check that she was actually sleeping peacefully in her bed; twice, she had kissed her brow to be sure that she wasn't kissing an empty pillow, long enough to feel her warmth and relish in her childish scent, though light enough not to wake her.

But twice didn't seem to be enough. What if for once, her recurrent nightmares had turned into an impossible dream? What if it just felt real, but wasn't actually? What if—What if she had gone crazy?

She turned her head to check if her husband was sleeping. In the dark, she could make out that his eyes were closed, and his breathing seemed steady. She was about to get out of bed discretely when she suddenly felt stupid. She couldn't spend all night going back and forth between her bed and her daughter's bedroom. She wasn't the kind of person who was used to check everything obsessively. She never went back to her house to be sure she had actually locked the door, she never pressed the button of the remote of her car several times. She hadn't even been an anguished mother. She tried to convince herself to go back to sleep, but eventually, the fear was stronger and she rose.

As she made her way through the room and crossed the corridor, her heart beat loudly in her ears. How long would it take for this dread to disappear? Days? Weeks? Months, maybe? Would it ever fully disappear? Would she ever be able to feel confident, to sleep secure, to be sure that her little girl was back for good? In spite of herself, her hand was shaking when she put it on the handle; and without realising it, she held her breath when she pushed slowly the door to her daughter's room. On tiptoes, she entered and came closer to the lying form in the bed. She brushed the silky hair with her fingers, then leaned in and placed a light, tender kiss on the smooth cheek. She could have stayed there for hours, looking at her sleeping, breathing.

A sob got caught in her throat and she closed her eyes, trying to calm down. When would she be able to stop crying?

The warmth of her little body seemed real against her fingers, the scent of her hair couldn't be a trick of her mind; the gentleness of her childish skin didn't feel like an illusion, the sound of her peaceful breathing didn't sound like a dream. So, after a last caress over her daughter's brow, she decided that she had had enough to be reassured. And as silently as she had stepped in, she walked out of the bedroom, swearing to herself that it was the last time. At least for tonight.

* * *

She couldn't honestly say that she was surprised; she couldn't really pretend that she hadn't noticed a thing. She was a forensic anthropologist. It was her job to study people's attitudes, to give them significance, to discover their point. The way he had been looking at her for some time, the way he had been talking to her; the way he had been touching her. The way he hadn't been touching her. She should have seen it coming. But there's always a difference between theory and practice. And theory never seems as clear when you're involved in it. Still, she blamed herself for not doing anything about it sooner; for not being able to do anything now. She was too weak to stop him, not strong enough to pull apart. Two times, she had let things go too far. And now what?

"I love you," he repeated, as if to make sure she had heard correctly. Maybe he thought that it would shake her, awake her from this state of astonishment she looked stuck in.

She had already been told this, a few times. It had been easier, then. Easier to respond with nothing, easier to run away. Easier to break off all contact, easier to move on. Easier not to feel anything, easier to forget, easier not to have any regrets and easier to not even bother. But this man wasn't some random boyfriend. He was her partner, someone she worked with. Her friend, someone she trusted. It felt important to find the right words, to do the right thing, to fix the damage that had already been done. Only, how was she supposed to do this? And why was it so difficult just to let him go?

Still dumb and rooted to the spot, she saw him step to the door, and the mere sound of his gait caused her heart to tighten. But not as much as the sight of the look stretched across his face when he turned around. Their eyes met, then his own dropped to the floor. And when, after a couple of seconds, he let his gaze turn to her again, what she saw in it made her realise that if she hadn't been able to stop things from happening at all, she couldn't let him leave either. Not like that.

"Don't worry, I get it—It won't happen again, and nobody will know about it."

She wanted to say something, to do something. But, for some reason, she didn't. The noise of the door closing, only, pulled her out of her catatonic state. He hadn't even slammed it. Maybe then, would have it been easier. Or maybe not.

She walked to the door and put her palm flat on it, as if she could still hold him back. When it became clear that she had messed up all of it, she leaned her brow on the hard wood and burst out sobbing, without really knowing why. A sudden wave of anger made her punch the door. Anger, because she really hated herself for what she had just done, or anger for crying—or probably both. The severe pain that throbbed in her hand made her swear and she but sobbed more because of it.

She turned and leaned her back against the door, struggling to calm down. When she finally managed to recover a normal breathing rhythm, she quickly wiped away the tears that wetted her face and looked around, searching for the keys of her car. Nothing on the table, nothing in her pockets. She grabbed her purse and poured its content down on the floor. Where were the damn keys? Ah yeah—the coffee table. She put on the first pair of shoes she found and slammed the door shut behind her. She drove to his place without actually thinking about the way, her mind way too busy trying to figure out what the hell she was going to tell him. And when she realised that she had reached her destination, she still wasn't sure about what to say. Yet, she went out of the car, and only then did she note that his own one wasn't parked in front of the house.

With a sigh, she sat down on the higher step. Some neighbours had to be finishing eating outside, for she could hear laughter and voices. With a sigh, she raised her gaze to the deep blue, starry sky, and waited. He'd inevitably had to come back home.

* * *

Chloe woke up in the middle of the night, with the soothing feeling of gentle fingers against her skin. And she opened her eyes, only to see the starry sky above her. Not the real sky, but the ceiling of her bedroom. Not the chilling cellar she had been forced to stay in during months. Not this bedroom. Her real bedroom, the one with the purple walls and the pink curtains. And the starry sky her father had created for her. Comfortably settled under the covers, lying on her back, her arms along her body, she spent a moment staring at the small and bigger glowing plastic stars which were all across the ceiling. And when sleep became too strong, she closed her eyes with a smile, no longer afraid to dream, because there was no longer a nightmare to scare her; there were only dreams, and the certitude that when she'd wake up in the morning, the stars would be still there, glued to the ceiling, no longer glowing, but still looking after her.

* * *

When he saw her car parked in front of his house, he didn't recognise it immediately. And when he caught sight of her sat in front of his door, her arms resting on her knees, he stopped. It had taken him over an hour to calm down, trying to chase her out of his mind, and now, here she was, waiting for him. At first, it felt as if she was scorning him, and he stepped closer with the intention to tell her coldly to leave him alone and lock himself inside. But the closer he went, the more he was able to make out her face, the less he felt like reacting this way. She sat up slowly, without a word; she pinched her lips together, never letting her eyes off of him.

"What are you doing here?"

She gave him a ghost of a smile before she answered, not without some hesitation. "Waiting for you to return, I guess."

"What do you want?" he sighed.

She shrugged slightly. "To apologise."

She drew one step closer with a look of obvious embarrassment. He didn't speak immediately, giving her the opportunity to say more, to explain herself. But, after several long seconds of looking each other in the eyes, nothing had come out of her mouth yet. So what did she really want? Just to apologise and go, feeling better about herself?

"Yeah, I see. Well, that's very kind of you but I'm fine, thank you. Now if you don't mind I'll just—"

Usually, when she cut him off, she did it by talking louder than him. Sometimes, she began to sulk, and other times, when she was pissed to realise that she would probably not have the right words to do him in this time, she just slammed the door with anger. But this was the first time that she used a kiss, and he had to admit that it was pretty efficient.

He waited a few seconds, expecting her to pull away. But when she did not, he understood that it wasn't only a kiss of apology. It was her, giving up, her fingers caressing his neck and giving him shivers, the feeling of her body pressed against his driving him crazy.

And it felt so romantic, though a little strange, to be kissing his Bones under the starry sky.

* * *

_**A/N : Was this allright? The story is almost finished, but not totally finished. I'll write either a whole chapter, or at least an epilogue, and I promise some more fluff inside. After this story, I'll take my time. Maybe I'll update These Moments (the thing is I have a lot of ideas about Santa in the Slush, and less ideas for the other episodes, so maybe I'll write the chapters in the wrong order :p). I also have an idea for a new multichapter with a new sesrial killer mwahahaha (yeah I know, I love serial killers), and I'm still gathering my ideas, because I want this story to be original. So I'll do my best! And anyway, my wonderful beta Catherine and I will keep working on our story, Never Say Never, and in case you haven't read it yet, our account is 'cmbones' See you soon for the last chapter!**_


	21. Epilogue

_**A/N : People, I really apologize. First, I'm sorry about the time it took me to write this very short chapter. Then, although I thank you a lot for all the kind reviews you left me, I'm sorry about the last chapters which, to me, weren't good at all, and I apologize to mumrulz in particular because yes, I messed up all the fluffy parts. I'm aware of that. And last, I'm sorry I offer you only a short epilogue to end this story but I really don't have any more ideas and the last crapy chapters didn't encourage me. I hope you'll forgive me!**_

* * *

**Chapter 21 - Epilogue**

She hadn't gone back to work, after all. She hadn't come back to her place and rest as she had told Booth. Instead, she had driven to Staunton, Virginia. She didn't intend to stay long. She merely needed to see her. It was something she couldn't explain, something she couldn't help. Something she desperately needed. She had found her address in the file and there she was, parked on the other side of the street where she lived.

Ironically, she didn't have enough guts to go out of the car and knock at the door. She didn't want to do that, anyway. It would have been a bad idea. They had to be left alone, now. They had to be left a chance to recover a sense of normal life.

For someone who didn't know their story, they seemed like a normal family. It was almost noon and they were about to have lunch. Despite the sun which she knew was burning hot, she rolled down the window. Her father playfullychased her while intending to tickle her, and Chloe was laughing while carrying the plates. Hopefully, she'd remember the past period of her life a stupid, terrifying nightmare. Hopefully, it wouldn't ruin her life.

"_You're not going to freak out, are you?"_

She had smiled, even if it wasn't actually funny. It was sort of sad, in fact, when she thought about it. During so many years, she had let her past influence her life, she had let her fears lead her choices. But she had decided that this time was over. Max was who he was; he had done what he had done. He was still her father. Russ had done his best, and his mistakes didn't keep him from having a good heart. He was still her brother. And Booth... Nothing felt scary with him. It felt simple, natural. Easy.

She rolled up the window, turned thekey in the ignition. And after a last look at the happy family, she left, a smile on her face. This was why she did this job.

All the way back, she kept this picture of Chloe in her mind, a beaming little girl, full of life, like in the photograph. She realised that she was humming this song she had heard the girl sing with her mother while setting the table. It made her remember her own mother.

_This is the way we bake our bread,  
Bake our bread, bake our bread.  
This is the way we bake our bread,  
So early Saturday morning.  
_

Today was the first day of the rest of their lives.

* * *

_**A/N : I'm going to begin writing a new story this week end. I'm still working on Never Say Never with Catherine (thanks to those who went read there and left us some lovely reviews! I give you the name of our account again : C.M.Bones). Anyway, I'll organize myself differently for my new story to come, I want to make sure I'll be able to post chapters regularly. So I can't tell you when I'll begin posting, hopefully soon if I get inspired this week-end (yesterday I had a wonderful time writing a whole chapter for NSN so I guess my mojo is back!). All I can tell you is that it'll still be a case-based story, with a creepy serial killer. It will be a little like Bloody Waters, with the killer's POV, and maybe the victims' POV, for more angst. However, I have to tell you that I'm tired of Brennan getting caught by the serial killer (and I think you're too) so don't worry, I'll make something different. There will be angst, but mostly from the killer/victims' POV as I said, and I want more funny parts, maybe more characters' POV (like Cam, Angela, Hodgins and also Zach and Sweets) for a change, and not only BB. What do you think? If you have some wishes, I promise to take them into account if it's possible! Besides, you know my point is to stay in-character as much as possible, so as always, I'll do my best to stay close to the show with a case I hope you'll find interesting, with suspense, with fun, with BB relationship (the story will begin just after Santa in the Slush).**_

_**To finish, I'd like to thank you for not giving up on this story despite the rhythm of posting and the quality of the last chapters, I can only promise you to do better for my next story. Love you all!**_


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